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A 



TALE OF A TUB, 

WRITTEN 

FOR THE UNIVERSAL IMPROVEMENT 

OF 

MANKIND. 



DIU MULTUMQUE DESIDERATUM. 



To which is added, 

AN ACCOUNT OF A BATTLE 

BETWEEN THE 

Ancient and Modern Books 

IN ST. JAMES'S LIBFARY. 



WITH 

THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY, 

AND 

EXPLANATORY NOTES, BY W. WOTTON, B.D. 

AND OTHERS. 



Basyma caeabasa eanaa irraumista, diarbada caeota bafobor 
cameianthi. Ircn. Lib. 1. C. 18. 



-Juvatoue novos decerpere flores, 



Insignemque meo capiti petere inde coronam, 
Unde prius nulli velarunt tempora Musae. Lucret. 



LONDON: 
PRINTED FOR THOMAS TEGG, 

HI, CHEAFSIDE. 
1S11. 



3?V 



?Y 



Treatises wrote by the same Author, most of them men- 
tioned in the following Discourses ; which will be 
speedily published. 

A Character of the present set o/Wits in this Island, 

A Panegyrical Essay upon the Number THREE. 

A Dissertation upon the principal productions of Grub- 
street. 

Lectures upon a Dissection of Human "Nature. 

A Panegyric upon the World. 

An Analytical Discourse upon Zeal, Histori-theophysi- 
logicaJly considered. 

A general History of Ears. 

A modest Defence of the Proceedings of the Rabble in all 
Ages. 

A Description of the Kingdom of Absurdities. 

A Voyage into England, by a Person of Quality in Terra 
Australis incognita, translated from the Original. 

A Critical Essay upon the Art of Canting, Philosophi- 
cally, Physically, and Musically considered. 



* \ 



AUTHOR'S APOLOGY. 



IF good and ill nature equally operated upon 
mankind, I might have saved myself the trouble 
of this Apology; for it is manifest by the recep- 
tion the following discourse hath met with, that 
those who approve it, are a great majority 
among the men of taste : yet there have been 
two or three treatises written expressly against 
it, besides many others that have flirted at it 
occasionally, without one syllable having been 
ever published in its defence, or even quotation 
to its advantage, that I can remember, except 
by the polite author of a late discourse between 
a deist and a Socinian. 

Therefore, since the book seems calculated to 
live at least as long as our language, and our 
taste admit no great alterations, I am content 
to convey some apology along with it. 

The greatest part of that book was finished 
about thirteen years since, IG96, which is eight 

B 



THE AUTHORS APOLOGY. 



years before it was published. The author was 
then young, his invention at the height, and 
his reading fresh in his head. By the assist- 
ance of some thinking, and much conversation, 
he had endeavoured to strip himself of as many 
real prejudices as he could ; I say real ones, be- 
cause under the notion of prejudices, he knew 
to what dangerous heights some men have pro- 
ceeded. Thus prepared, he thought the numer- 
ous and gross corruptions in religion and learn- 
ing might furnish matter for a satire, that would 
be useful and diverting: he resolved to proceed 
in a manner, that should be altogether new, the 
world having been already too long nauseated 
with endless repetitions upon every subject. 
The abuses in religion he proposed to set forth 
in the allegory of the coats, and the three bro- 
thers, which was to make up the body of the 
discourse. Those in learning he chose to intro- 
duce by way of digressions. He was then a 
young gentleman much in the world, and wrote 
to the taste of those who were like himself; 
therefore, in order to allure them, he gave a 
liberty to his pen, which might not suit with 
maturer years, or graver characters, and which 
he could have easily corrected with a very few 
blots, had he been master of his papers for a year 
or two before their publication. 

Not that he would have governed his judg- 



THE AUTHOP^S APOLOGY. 3 

ment by the ill-placed cavils of the sour, the 
envious, the stupid, and the tasteless, which he 
mentions with disdain. He acknowledges there 
are several youthful sallies, which from the 
grave and the wise may deserve a rebuke. But 
he desires to be answerable no farther than he 
is guilty, and that his faults may not be multi- 
plied by the ignorant, the unnatural, and un- 
charitable applications of those who have nei- 
ther candor to suppose good meanings, nor pa- 
late to distinguish true ones. After which, he 
will forfeit his life, if any one opinion can be 
fairly deduced from that book, which is contrary 
to religion or morality. 

Why should any clergyman of our church be 
angry to see the follies of fanaticism and super- 
stition exposed, though in the most ridiculous 
manner? since that is perhaps the most proba- 
ble way to cure them, or at least to hinder them 
from farther spreading. Besides, though it 
was not intended for their perusal; it rallies no- 
thing but what they preach against. It con- 
tains nothing to provoke them by the least scur- 
rility upon their persons or their functions. It 
celebrates the church of England as the moat 
perfect of all others in discipline and doctrine, 
it advances no opinion they reject, nor con- 
demns any they receive. If the clergy's resent- 
ments lay upon their hands, in my humble opi- 
B 2 



i 



THE AUTHORS APOLOGY. 



nion, they might have found more proper objects 
to employ them on: nondum tibi defuit hostis; 
I mean those heavy, illiterate scriblers, prosti- 
tute in their reputations, vicious in their lives, 
and ruined in their fortunes ; who, to the shame 
of good sense as well as piety, are greedily read, 
merely upon the strength of bold, false, impi- 
ous assertions, mixed with unmannerly reflec- 
tions upon the priesthood, and openly intended 
against all religion; in short, full of such prin- 
ciples as are kindly received, because they are 
levelled to remove those terrors that religion 
tells men will be the consequence of immoral 
lives. Nothing lil^e which is to be met with in 
this discourse, though some of them are pleased 
so freely to censure it. And I wish, there were 
no other instance of what I have too frequently 
observed, that many of that reverend body are 
not always very nice in distinguishing between 
their enemies and their friends. 

Had the authorVintentions met with a more 
candid interpretation from some, whom out of 
respect he forbears to name, he might have been 
encouraged to an examination of books written 
by some of those authors above described, whose 
errors, ignorance, dullness and villainy, he 
thinks he could have detected and exposed in 
such a manner, that the persons who are most 
conceived to be infected by them, would soon 



THE AUTHORS APOLOGY. 



lay them aside and be ashamed: but he has 
now given over those thoughts, since the 
weightiest men* in the weightiest stations, are 
pleased to think it a more dangerous point to 
laugh at those corruptions in religion, which 
they themselves muse disapprove, than to endea- 
vour pulling up those very foundations, wherein 
all Christians have agreed. 

He thinks it no fair proceeding, that any per- 
son should offer determinately to fix a name 
upon the author of this discourse, who hath all 
along concealed himself from most of his near- 
est friends : yet several have gone a farther step, 
and pronounced another bookf to have bee^ 
the work of the same hand with this : which the 
author directly affirms to be a thorough mistake ; 
he having yet never so much as read that dis- 
course: a plain instance how little truth there 
often is in general surmises, or in conjectures 
drawn from a similitude of stile, or way of think- 
ing. 

Had the author written a book to expose the 
abuses in law, or in physick, he believes the 
learned professors in either faculty, would have 
been so far from resenting it, as to have given 

* Alluding to Dr. Sharp, the Archbishop of York** re- 
presentation of the author. Hawkesworth. 
f Letter concerning Enthusiasm. 
B 3 



THE AUTHORS APOLOGY, 



him thanks for his pains, especially if he had 
made an honourable reservation for the tru$ 
practice of either science : but religion, they tell 
us, ought not to be ridiculed; and, they tell us 
truth : yet surely the corruptions in it may; for 
we are taught by the tritest maxim in the world, 
that religion being the best of things, its cor- 
ruptions are likely to be the worst. 

There is one thing which the judicious readei 
cannot but have observed, that some of those 
passages in this discourse, which appear most 
liable to objection, are what they call parodies, 
where the author personates the style and man- 
ner of other writers, whom he has a mind to 
expose. I shall produce one instance, it is 
towards the end of the Introduction. Dry- 
den, L'Estrange, and some others I shall 
not name., are here levelled at, who having 
spent their lives in faction, and apostacies, 
and all manner of vice, pretended to be 
sufferers for loyalty and religion. So Dryden 
tells us in one of his Prefaces of his merits and 
sufferings, thanks God that he possesses his soul 
in patience : in other places he talks at the 
game rate, and L'Estrange often uses the like 
stile, and I believe the reader may find more 
persons to give that passage an application: 
but this is enough to direct those who may I 
have overlooked the author's intention. 

There are three or four other passages which 



THE AUTHORS APOLOGY, 



prejudiced or ignorant readers have drawn by 
great force to hint at ill meanings; as if they 
glanced at some tenets in religion. In answer 
to all which, the author solemnly protests he is 
entirely innocent, and never had it once in his 
thoughts that any thing he said would in the 
least be capable of such interpretations, which 
he will eogage to deduce full as fairly from the 
most innocent book in the world. And it will 
be obvious to every reader, that this was not 
any part of his scheme or design; the abuses he 
notes, being such as all church of England men 
agree in; nor was it proper for his subject to 
meddle with other points, than such as have 
been perpetually controverted since the Refor- 
mation. 

To instance only in that passage about the 
three wooden machines mentioned in the intro- 
duction: in the original manuscript there was 
a description of a fourth, which those w r ho had 
the papers in their power, blotted out, as hav- 
ing something in it of satire, that I suppose 
they thought was too particular, and therefore 
they were forced to change it to the number 
three, from whence some have endeavoured to 
squeeze out a dangerous meaning that was ne- 
ver thought on. And indeed, the conceit was 
half spoiled by changing the numbers; that of 
four being much more cabalistick, and there- 

b 4 



THE AUTHORS APOLOGY. 



fore better exposing the pretended virtue of 
numbers, a superstition there intended to be 
ridiculed. 

Another thing to be observed, is, that there 
generally runs an irony through the thread of 
the whole book, which the men of taste will 
observe and distinguish, and which will render 
some objections that have been made, very weak 
and insignificant. 

This Apology being chiefly intended for the 
satisfaction of future readers, it may be thought 
unnecessary to take any notice of such treatises 
as have been writ against the ensuing discourse, 
which are already sunk into waste paper and 
oblivion; after the usual fate of common answer- 
ers to books, which are allowed to have any 
merit : they are, indeed, like annuals that grow 
about a young tree, and seem to vie with it for 
a summer, but fall and die with the leaves in 
autumn, and are never heard of any more. 
When Dr. Echard writ his book about the con- 
tempt of the clergy, numbers of those answerers 
immediately started up, whose memory, if he 
had not kept alive by his replies, it would now 
be utterly unknown that he were ever answered 
at all. There is, indeed, an exception, when 
any great genius thinks it worth his while to ex- 
pose a foolish piece; so we still xead MarvelY 



^THE AUTHORS APOLOGY. 9 

answer to Parker* with pleasure, though the 
book it answers be sunk long ago; so the Earl 
of Orrery's Remarks will be read with delight, 
when the Dissertation he exposes will neither be 
sought nor found :f but these are no enterprizes 
for common hands, nor to be hoped for above 
once or twice in an age. Men w r ould be more 
cautious of losing their time in such an under- 
taking, if they did but consider that to answer a 
book effectually, requires more pains and skill, 
more wit, learning, and judgment than were 
employed in the writing it. And the author 
assures those gentlemen who have given them- 
selves that trouble with him, that his Discourse 
is the product of the study, the observation, and 
the invention of several years; that he often 
blotted out much more than he left, and if his 
papers had not been a long time out of his pos- 
session, they must have still undergone more 
severe corrections: and do they think such a 
building is to be battered with dirt-pellets, how- 

* Parker, afterwards Bishop of Oxford, wrote many 
treatises against the Dissenters, with insolence and con 
tempt, says Burnet, that enraged them beyond measure ; 
for which he was chastised by Andrew Marvel, under- 
secretary to Milton, in a little book called, The Rehearsal 
Transposed. JIazvkes. 

f Boyle's Remarks upon Bentley's Dissertation on th$ 
Epistles of Phalaris, Haukes. 

» 5 



10 THE AUTHORS APOLOGY. 

ever envenomed the mouths may be that dis- 
charge them? He hath seen the productions but 
of two answerers, one of which at first appeared 
as from an unknown hand, but since avowed by 
a person/* who, upon some occasions, hath dis- 
covered no ill vein of humour. 'Tis a pity any 
occasion should put him under a necessity of 
being so hasty in his productions, which other- 
wise might often be entertaining. But there 
were other reasons obvious enough for his mis- 
carriage in this ; he writ against the conviction 
of his talent, and entered upon one of the 
wrongest attempts in nature, to turn into ridi- 
cule by a week's labour, a work which had cost 
so much time, and met with so much success in 
ridiculing others: the manner how he han- 
dled his subject, I have now forgot, having just 
looked it over when it first came out, as others 
did, merely for the sake of the title.f 

The other answer is from a person of a graver 
character, and is made up of half invective, and 

* Supposed to be Dr. William King, the civilian, author 
of an Account of Denmark, a Dissertation on Sampiars, 
and other pieces of burlesque on the Royal Society, and 
the Art of Cookery, in imitation of Horace's Art of Poetry, 
'&c. Httwkes.* " ■ • 

f This we cannot recover at present ; it being so abso- 
lutely forgotten; the oldest booksellers in trade remember 
nothing; of it. Hawkcs. ; ' 



THE AUTHORS APOLOGY. II 

» ■ ■ a \ . ' ■ i , . - . - ■ , 

half annotation.* In the latter of which he 
hath generally succeeded well enough. And the 
project at that time was not amiss, to draw in 
readers to his pamphlet, several having appear- 
ed desirous that there might be some explication 
of the more difficult passages. Neither can he 
be altogether blamed for offering at the invec- 
tive part, because it is agreed on all hands that 
the author had given him a sufficient provoca- 
tion. The great objection is against his manner 
of treating it, very unsuitable to one of his 
function. It was determined by a fair majority, 
that this answerer had, in a way not to be par- 
doned, drawn his pen against a certain great 
man then alive, and universally reverenced for 
every good quality that could possibly enter into 
the composition of the most accomplished per- 
son; it was observed, how he was pleased and 
affected to have that noble writer called his ad- 
versary, and it was a point of satire well directed ; 
for I have been told, Sir W. Temple w r as suffi- 

* Wotton's Defence of his Reflections upon Ancient 
and Modern Learning. From the annotations, are select- 
ed the notes, signed W. VVotton. Thus, VVotton appears 
busied to illustrate a work which he laboured to condemn, 
and adxls force to a satire pointed against himself: as cap- 
tives were bound to the chariot-wheel of the victor, and 
compelled to increase the pomp of his triumph, whom 
they -had in vain attempted to defeat. Hawkcs. 

b6 



13 THE AUTHORS APOLOGY. 

ciently mortified at the term. All the men of 
^wit and politeness were immediately up in arms, 
through indignation, which prevailed over their 
contempt, by the consequences they appre- 
hended from such an example, and it grew to 
be Porsenna's case; idem trecenti juravimus* 
In short, things were ripe for a general insurrec- 
tion, till my Lord Orrery had a little laid the 
spirit, and settled the ferment. But his lord- 
ship being principally engaged with another 
antagonist*, it was thought necessary, in order 
to quiet the minds of men, that this opposer 
should receive a reprimand, which partly occa- 
sioned that discourse of the Battle of the Books, 
and the author was farther at the pains to insert 
one or two remarks on him in the body of the 
took. 

This answer has been pleased to find fault 
with about a dozen passages, which the author 
will not be at the trouble of defending, farther 
than by assuring the reader, that for the greater 
part the reflecter is entirely mistaken, and forces 
interpretations which never once entered into 
the writer's head, nor will, he is sure, into that of 
any reader of taste and candour; he allows two 
or three at most there produced, to have been 
delivered unwarily, for which he desires to plead 

* Bentley, concerning Phalaris and iEsop, Hawk&. 



THE AUTHOR^ APOLOGY. 13 

the excuse offered already, of his youth, and 
frankness of speech, and his papers being out of 
his power at the time they were published. 

But this answerer insists, and says, what he 
chiefly dislikes, is the design; what that was, I 
have already told, and I believe there is not a 
person in England who can understand that 
book, that ever imagined it to have been any 
thing else, but to expose the abuses and corrup- 
tions in learning and religion. 

But it would be good to know what design 
this reflecter was serving, when he concludes 
his pamphlet by a caution to readers, to beware 
of thinking the author's wit was entirely his 
own: surely this must have had some alley of 
personal animosity, at least mixt with the design 
of serving the public by so useful a discovery ; 
and it indeed touches the author in a very ten- 
der point, who insists upon it, that through the 
whole book he has not borrowed one single hint 
from any writer in the world ; and he thought, 
of all criticisms, that would never have been one. 
He conceived it was never disputed to be an ori- 
ginal, whatever faults it might have. However 
this answerer produces three instances to prove 
this author's wit is not his own in many places. 
The first is, that the names of Peter, Martin and 
Jack, are borrowed from a letter of the late 



■ 



14 THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY. 



Duke of Buckingham*. Whatever wit is con- 
tained in those three names, the author is con 
tent to giveit upland desires his readerswill sub- 
tract as much as they placed upon that account 
at the same time protesting solemnly, that he 
never once heard of that letter, except in this 
passage of the answerer: so that the names were 
not borrowed, as he affirms, though they should 
happen to be the same, which however is odd 
enough, and what he hardly believes : that of 
Jack being not quite so obvious as the other two. 
The second instance to shew the Author's wit is 
not his own, is Peter's Banter (as he calls it in his 
Alsatia phrase) upon transubstantiation, which 
is taken from the same Duke's conference with 
an Irish priest, where a cork is turned into a 
horse. This the author confesses to have seen, 
about ten years after his book was writ, and a 
year or two after it was published. Nay, the 
answerer overthrows this himself; for he allows 
the tale was writ in 1697^ and I think that 
pamphlet was not printed in many years after. 
It was necessary that corruption shoud have 
some allegory as well as the rest ; and the author 
invented the properest he could, without enquire 
ing what other people had written ; and the com- 
monest reader will tind, there is not the least re- 

* Villers, 



THE AUTHORS APOLOGY. 15 

semblance between the two stories. The third 
instance is in these words : I have been assured, 
that the battle in St. James's Library, is mutatis 
mutandis, taken out of a French book, entituled, 
Combat des Livres, if I misremember not*. In 
which passage there are two clauses observable : 
I have been assured ; and, if I misremember not. 
I desire first to know, whether if that conjecture 
proves an utter falsehood, those two clauses will 
be a sufficient excuse for this worthy critic. The 
matter is a trifle; but, would he venture -to pro- 
nounce at this rate upon one of greater moment ? 
I know nothing more contemptible in a writer 
than the character of a plagiary; which he here 
fixes at a venture, and this not for a passage, 
but a whole discourse, taken out from another 
book only mutatis mutandis. The author is a»s 
much in the dark about this as the answerer; 
and will imitate him by an affirmation at ran- 
dom ; that if there be a word of truth in this re- 
flection, he is a paultry, imitating pedant, and 
the answerer is a person of wit, manners^ and 
truth. He takes his boldness from never having 
seen any such treatise in his life, nor heard of it 
before ; and he is sure it is impossible for two 
writers of different times and countries, to agree 
in their thoughts after such a manner, that two 
continued discourses shall be the same only mu- 
tatis mutandis. Neither will he. insist upon tile 



16 the author's apologt. 



mistake on the title; but let the answererand his 
friend produce any book they please, he defies 
them to shew one single particular, where the 
judicious reader will affirm he has been obliged 
for the smallest hint; giving only allowance for 
the accidental encountering of a single thought, 
which he knows may sometimes happen ; though 
he has never yet found it in that discourse, nor 
has heard it objected by any body else. 

So that if ever any design was unfortunately 
executed, it must be that of this answerer, who 
when he would have it observed, that the 
author's wit isnoneof his own, is able to produce 
but three instances, two of them mere trifles, and 
all three manifestly false. If this be the way 
these gentlemen deal with the world in those 
criticisms, where we have not leisure to defeat 
them, their readers had need be cautions how 
they rely upon their credit; and whether this 
proceeding can be reconciled to humanity or 
truth, let those who think it worth their while, 
determine. 

It is agreed, this answerer would have suc- 
ceeded much better, if he had stuck wholly to 
his business as a commentator upon the Tale of 
a Tub, wherein it cannot be denyed, that he 
hath been of some service to the public, and has 
given very fair conjectures towards clearing up 
some difficult passages ; but it is the frequent 



THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY. 17 

error of those men (otherwise very commenda- 
ble for their labours) to make excursions beyond 
their talent and their office, by pretending to 
point out the beauties and the faults; which is 
no part of their trade, which they always fail in, 
which the world never expected from them, nor 
gave them any thanks for endeavouring at. The 
part of Minellius, or Farnaby, # would have 
fallen in with his genius, and might have been 
servicable to many readers who cannot enter 
into the abstruser parts of that discourse; but 
optat ephippia bos piger : The dull, unwieldy, 
ill-shaped ox would needs put on the furniture of 
a horse, not considering he was born to labour, 
to plough the ground for the sake of superior 
beings, and that he has neither the shape, met- 
tle nor speed of- that nobler animal he would 
would affect to personate. 

It is another pattern of this answerer's fair 
dealing, to give us hints that the author is dead, 
and yet to lay the suspicion upon some-body, I 
know not who, in the country; to which can 
only be returned, that he is absolutely mistaken 
in all his conjectures ; and surely coujectures are 
at best too light a pretence to allow a man to as* 

* Low commentators, who wrote notes upon classic au- 
thors for the use of school-boys. Huwkes* 



18 THE AUTHORS APOLOGY. 

sign a name in public. He condemns a book, 
and consequently the author, of whom he is 
utterly ignorant, yet at the same time fixes in 
print, what he thinks a disadvantageous charac- 
ter upon those who never deserved it. A man 
who receives a buffet in the dark, may be allowed 
to be vexed ; but it is an odd kind of revenge 
to go to cuffs in broad day with the first he 
meets and lay the last night's injury at his door. 
And thus much for this discreet, candid, pious, 
and ingenious answerer. 

How the author came to be withouthis papers, 
is a story not proper to be told, and of very little 
use, being a private fact, of which the reader 
w r ould believe as little, or as much as he thought 
good. He had however a blotted copy by him, 
which he intended to have written over with many 
alterations, and this* the publishers were well 
aware of, having put it into the bookseller's pre- 
face, that they apprehended a surreptitious copy, 
which was to be altered, &c. This, though not 
regarded by readers, was a real truth, only the 
6urreptitiouscopy was rather that which was print- 
ed, and they made all the haste they could, which 
indeed was needless; the author not being at all 
prepared: but he has been told, the bookseller 
was in much pain, having given a good sum of 
money for the copy* 



the author's apology. !Q 

In the Author's original copy there were not 
so many chasms as appear in the book; and why 
some of them were left, he knows not : had the 
publication been trusted to him, he would have 
made several corrections of passages, against 
which nothing hath ever been objected. He 
would likewise have altered a few of those that 
seem with any reason to be excepted against ; 
but to deal freely the greatest number he should 
have left untouched, as never suspecting it 
possible any wrong interpretations could be 
made of them. 

The author observes, at the end of the book 
there is a discourse, called, A Fragment; which 
he more wondered to see in print than all the 
rest. Having been a most imperfect sketch, 
with the addition of a few loose hints, which he 
once lent a gentleman who had designed a dis- 
course of somewhat the same subject; he never 
thought of it afterwards, and it was a sufficient 
surprize to see it pieced up together, wholly ouJB 
of the method and scheme he had intended; for 
it was the ground-work of a much larger dis- 
course, and he was sorry to observe the materials 
so, foolishly employed. 

There is one farther objection made by those 
who have answered this book, as well as by some 
-others, that Peter is frequently made to repeat 



£0 the author's apology. 

oaths and curses. Every reader observes, it was 
necessary to know that Peter did swear and 
curse. The oaths are not printed out, but only 
supposed, and the idea of an oath is not immoral, 
like the idea of a profane or immodest speech. 
A man may laugh at the Popish folly of cursing 
people to hell, and imagine them swearing, 
without any crime ; but lewd words or dangerous 
opinions, though printed by halves, fill the rea- 
der's mind with ill ideas ; and of these the author 
cannot be accused. For the judicious reader 
will find that the severest strokes of satyr in 
his book are levelled against the modern custom 
of employing wit upon those topics, of which 
there is a remarkable instance in the 7th section^ 
as well as in several others, though perhaps once 
or twice exprest in too free a manner, excusable 
only for the reasons already alledged. Some 

overtures have been made bv a third hand to the 

j 

bookseller for the author's altering those pas- 
sages which he thought might require it. But it 
seems the bookseller will not hear of any such 
thinjr, being apprehensive it might spoil the sale 
of the book. 

The author cannot conclude this apology, with- 
out making this one reflection ; that, as wit is 
the noblest and most useful gift of human nature, 
so humour is the most agreeable; and where 



THE AUTHOR'S APOLOGY. 21 



these two enter far into the composition of any 
work, they will render it always acceptable to 
the world. Now the greater part of those who 
have no share or taste of either, but by their 
pride, pedantry and ill manners, lay themselves 
bare to the lashes of both, think the blow is weak 
because they are insensible; and where wit hath 
any mixture of raillery, 'tis but calling it banter, 
and the work is done. This polite word of theirs 
was first borrowed from the bullies in White- 
Friers, then fell among the footmen, and at last 
retired to the pedants, by whom it is applied as 
properly to the productions of wit, as if I should 
apply it to Sir Isaac Newton's mathematics: 
but, if this bantering, as they call it, be so des- 
pisable a thing, whence comes it to pass they 
have such a perpetual itch towards it themselves ? 
To instance only in the answerer, already men- 
tioned*, it is grievious to see him in some of his 
writings at every turn going out of his way to 
be waggish, to tell us of a cow that pricked up her 
tail: and in his answer to this discourse, he says, 
it is all a farce and a ladle: with other passages 
equally shining. One may say of these impedi- 
menta Literarum, that wit owes them a shame ; 
and they cannot take wiser counsel, than to 
keep out of harm's way, or at least not to come 
till they are sure they are called. 



&% THE AUTHORS APOLOGY. 

To conclude ; with those allowances above re- 
quired, this book should be read, after which the 
author conceives, few things will remain which 
may not be excused in a young writer. He 
wrote only to the men of wit and taste, and he 
thinks he is not mistaken in his accounts, when he 
says they have been all of his side, enough to 
give him the vanity of telling his name, wherein 
the world, with all its wise conjectures, is yet 
very much in the dark; which circumstance is 
no disagreeable amusement either to the public 
or himself. 

The author is informed, that the bookseller 
has*prevailed on several gentlemen, to write some 
explanatory notes, for the goodness of which he 
is not to answer, having never seen any of them, 
nor intending it, till they appear in print, when it 
is not unlikely he may have the pleasure to find 
twenty meanings, which never entered into his 
imagination. 

June 3, J 70S. 

POSTSCRIPT. 

SINCE the writing of this, which was about 
a year ago, a prostitute bookseller hath publish- 
ed a foolish paper, under the name of Notes on 
the Tale of a Tub, with some account of the 
author ; and with an insolence which I suppose 



THE AUTHORS APOLOGY. 



is punishable by law, hath presumed to assign cer- 
tain names. It will be enough for the author to 
assure the world, that the writer of that paper is 
utterly wrong in all his conjectures upon that af- 
fair. The author farther asserts that the whole 
work is entirely of one hand, which every reader 
of judgment will easily discover: the gentleman 
who gave the copy to the bookseller, being a 
friend of the author, and using no other liberties 
besides that of expunging certain passages, 
where now the chasms appear under the name 
of desiderata. But if any person will prove his 
claim to three lines in the whole book, let him 
step forth and tell his name and titles, upon 
which the bookseller shall have orders to prefix 
them to the next edition, and the claimant shall 
from henceforward be acknowledged the undis- 
puted author. 



&4 THE BOOKSELLERS DEDICATION, 

TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE 

JOHN LORD SOMMERS. 



My Lord, 

ALTHOUGH the author has written a large 
dedication, yet that being addressed to a prince, 
whom I am never likely to have the honour of 
being known to ; a person, besides, as far as I 
can observe, not at all regarded, or thought on 
by any of our present writers ; and, being wholly 
tree from that slavery, which booksellers usually 
lie under, to the caprices of authors : I think it a 
wise piece of presumption to inscribe these pa- 
pers to your Lordship, and to implore your Lord- 
ship's protection of them. God, and your Lord- 
ship, know their faults, and their merits ; for as 
to my own particular, I am altogether a stranger 
to the matter ; and though every body else should 
. be equally ignorant, I do not fear the sale of the 
book, at all the worse, upon that score. Your 
Lordship's name on the front, in capital letters, 
will at any time get off one edition : Neither 
would I desire any other help, to grow an alder- 
man, than a patent for the sole privilege of dedi- 
cating to your Lordship. 




I 

I 



! 




f 



I 



6' 










s 
£ 



THE BOOKSELLER S DEDICATION. ti 

I should now, in right of a dedicator, give your 
Lordship a list of your own virtues, and at the 
same time, be very unwilling to offend your mo- 
desty ; but, chiefly, I should celebrate your libe- 
rality towards men of great parts and small for- 
tunes, and give you broad hints that I mean my- 
self. And I was just going on in the usual me- 
thod, to peruse a hundred or two of dedications, 
and transcribe an abstract, to be applied to your 
Lordship; but, I was diverted by a certain acci- 
dent. For, upon the covers of these papers, I 
casually observed, written in large letters, the 
two following words, DETUR DIGNISSIMO; 
which, for ought I knew, might contain some 
important meaning. But it unluckily fell out, 
that none of the authors I employ understood 
Latin ; (though I have them often in pay, to 
translate out of that language) I was therefore, 
compelled to have recourse to the curate of our 
parish, who Englished it thus, let it be given to 
the zoorthiest. And his comment was, that the 
author meant, his work should be dedicated to 
the sublimest genius of the age, for wit, learning, 
judgment, eloquence, and wisdom. I called at a 
poet's chamber, (who works for my shop) in an 
alley hard by, shewed him the translation, and 
desired his opinion, who it was that the author 
could mean : he told me, after some considera- 
tion, that vanity was a thing he abhored ; but 

c 






26 THE BOOKSELLER'S DEDICATION. 

by the description, he thought himself to be the 
person aimed at ; and, at the same time, he very 
kindly offered his own assistance gratis, towards 
penning a dedication to himself. [ desired him, 
however, to give a second guess ; why then, said 
he, it must be I, or my Lord Sommers. From 
thence I went to several other wits of my acquaint* 
ance, with no small hazard and weariness to my 
person, from a prodigious number of dark, wind- 
ing stairs; but found them all in the same story, 
both of your Lordship and themselves. Now, 
your Lordship is to understand, that this pro- 
ceeding ^was not of my own invention ; for, I 
have somewhere heard, it is a maxim, that those, 
to whom every body allows the second place, 
have an undoubted title to the first. 

This infallibly convinced me, that your Lord- 
ship was the person intended by the author. 
But, being very unacquainted in the style and 
form of dedications, I employed those wits afore- 
said, to furnish me with hints and materials to- 
wards a panegyrick upon your Lordship's virtues; 

In two days, they brought me ten sheets of 
,paper filled up on every side. They swore to me, 
that they had ransacked whatever could be found 
in the characters of Socrates, Aristides, Epami- 
nondas, Cato, Tully, Atticus, and other hard 
names, which I cannot now recollect. However, 
I have reason to believe, they imposed upon my 



THE BOOKSELLER'S DEDICATION. 27 

ignorance, because, when I came to read over 
their collections, there was not a syllable there, 
but what I and every body else knew as well as 
themselves. Therefore, I grievously suspect a 
cheat; and, that these authors of mine, stole 
and transcribed every word, from the universal 
report of mankind. So that I look upon myself, 
as fifty shillings out of pocket, to no manner of 
purpose. 

If by altering the title, I could make the same 
materials serve for another dedication, (as my 
betters have done) it w r ould help to make up my 
loss ; but I have made several persons dip here 
and there in those papers, and before they read 
three lines, they have all assured me, plainly, 
that they cannot possibly be applied to any per- 
son besides your Lordship. 

I expected indeed to have heard of your Lord- 
ship's bravery, at the head of an army ; of your 
undaunted courage in mounting a breach, or 
scaling a wall ; or, to have had your pedigree 
traced in a lineal descent from the house of Aus- 
tria ; or, your wonderful talent at dress and danc- 
ing; or your profound knowledge in algebra, 
methaphysicks and the Oriental tongues. But to 
ply the world with an old beaten story of your 
wit, and eloquence, and learning, and w r isdom, 
and justice, and politeness, and candor and even- 
ness of temper in all scenes of life ; of that great 
c2 



28 the bookseller's dedication. 

discernment in discovering, and readiness in fa- 
vouring deserving men; with forty other com- 
mon-topics: I confess I have neither conscience, 
nor countenance to do it. Because, there is no 
virtue, either of a public or private life, which 
some circumstances of your own, have not often 
produced upon the stage of the world ; and those 
few, which for want of occasions to exert them, 
might otherwise have passed unseen or unobserv- 
ed by your friends, your enemies* have at length 
brought to light. 

It is true, I should be very loth, the bright ex- 
ample of your Lordship's virtues should be lost 
to after-ages, both for their sake and your own ; 
but chiefly, because they will be so very neces- 
sary to adorn the history of a late reign ;f and that 
is another reason, why I would forbear to make 
a recital of them here; because, I have been 
told by wise men, that as dedications have run 
for some years past, a good historian will not 
be apt to have recourse thither, in search of cha- 
racters. 

*Jn i701, Lord Sommers was impeached by the Com- 
mons,, who, either finding their proofs defective, or for 
other reasons, delayed coming to trial ; and the Lords 
thereupon proceeded to the trial without them, and acquit- 
ed him. 'Hawks. 

f K. William's; whose memory he defended in the 
House of Lords, against some invidious reflections of the 
Earl of Nottingham. Hawks, 



THE BOOKSELLER'S DEDICATION. 2.Q 

There is one point, wherein I think we dedica- 
tors would do well to change our measures ; I 
mean, instead of running on so far, upon the 
praise of our patrons' liberality, to spend a word 
or two in admiring their patience. I can put no 
greater compliment on your Lordship's, than 
by giving you so ample an occasion to exercise 
it at present. Though perhaps, I shall not be apt 
to reckon much merit to your Lordship upon 
that score, who having been formerly used to tedi- 
ous harangues,* sometimes to as little purpose, 
will be the readier to pardon this; especially, 
when it is offered by one, who is with all respect 
and veneration, 

My Lord, 

Your Lordship's most obedient, 

And most faithful servant, 

THE BOOKSELLER, 



* Sir John Sommers was Attorney General; then made 
Kord Keeper of the Seals in 1692, and Lord High Chancel T 
lor and Baron of Evesham, in April 1697. Hawks* 



B 3 



30 tfHE BOOKSELLER TO THE READER. 



THE 



BOOKSELLER TO THE READER 



IT is now six years* since these papers came 
first to my hand, which seems to have been about 
a twelvemonth after they were written. For, the 
author tells us in, his preface to the first treatise, 
that he had calculated it for the year 1697, and 
in several passages of that discourse, as well as 
the second, it appears, they were written about 
that time. 

As to the author, I can give no manner of satis- 
faction; however, I am credibly informed that this 
publication is without his knowledge ; for he con* 
eludes the copy is lost, having lent it to a person, 
since dead, and being never in possession of it 
after. So that, whether the work received his 
last hand, or, whether he intended to fill up the 
defective places; is like to remain a secret. 

If I should go about to tell the reader, by what 
accident I became master of these papers, it 
would, in this unbelieving age, pass for little 

* The Tale of a Tub was first published in 1704. Hawks, 



THE BOOKSELLER TO THE READER. 31 

more than the cant, or jargon of the trade. I 
therefore, gladly spare both him and myself so 
unnecessary a trouble. There yet remains a 
difficultquestion, why I published them no sooner. 
I forebore upon two accounts ; first, because I 
thought I had better work upon my hands; and 
secondly, because, I was not without some hope 
oif hearing from the author, and receiving his 
directions. But, I have been lately alarmed 
with intelligence of a surreptitious copy, which a 
certain great wit had new polished and refined, 
or, as our present writers express themselves, 
fitted to the humour of the age ; as they have 
already done, with great felicity, to Don Quixote, 
Boccalini, la Bruyere, and other authors. How- 
ever, I thought it fairer dealing, to offer the whole 
work in its naturals. If any gentleman will 
please to, furnish me with a key, in order to ex- 
plain the more difficult parts, I shall very grate- 
fully acknowledge the favour, and print it by 
itself. 



c4 



3£ THE DEDICATION TO 



THE 



EPISTLE DEDICATORY. 



TO HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS 

PRINCE POSTERITY. 






SIR, 



I Here present your Highness with the fruits 
ef a very few leisure hours, stolen from the 
short intervals of a world of business, and of an 
employment quite alien from such amusements as 
this: the poor production of that refuse of time 
which has lain heavy upon my hands, during a 
long prorogation of Parliament, a great dearth 

The citation out of Irenae in the title-page to the Tale of 
a Tub, $c. which seems to be all gibberish, is a form of initia- 
tion used antiently by the Marcosian heretics. W. Wotton. 

It is the usual style of decried writers, to appeal to Pos- 
terity ; who is here represented as a prince in his non-age, 
and Time as his governor; and the author begins in away 
very frequent with him, by personating other writers, who 
sometimes offer such reasons and excuses for publishing 
their works, as they ought chiefly to conceal, and be asham- 
ed of. 



PRINCE POSTERITY. 33 

of foreign news, and a tedious fit of rain}' wea- 
ther: for which, and other reasons, it cannot 
chuse extremely to deserve such a patronage as 
that of your Highness, whose numberless virtues 
in so few years, make the world look upon you 
as the future exa n pie to all princes. For altho' 
your Highness is hardly got clear of infancy, 
yet has the universal learned world already resolv- 
ed upon appealing to your future dictates with 
the lowest and most resigned submission; fate 
having decreed you sole arbiter of the pro- 
ductions of human wit, in this polite and 
most accomplished age. Methinks, the number 
of appellants were enough to shock and startle 
any judge of a genius less unlimited than yours. 
But in order to prevent such glorious trials, the 
person, it seems, to whose care the education of 
your Highness is committed, has resolved (lam 
told) to keep } r ou in almost an universal ignorance 
©f our studies, which it is your inherent birth- 
right to inspect. 

It is amazing to me, that this person should 
have assurance in the face of the sun, to go 
about persuading your Highness, that our age is 
almost wholly illiterate, and has hardly produced 
one writer upon any subject. I know very well, 
that when your Highness shall come to riper years; 
and have gone through the learning of antiquity, 
you will be too curious to neglectinquiring int.Q 
C 5 



54 THE DEDICATION TO 

the authors of the very age before you. And to 
think that this Insolent, in the account he is pre- 
paring for your view, designs to reduce them to 
a number so insignificant as I am ashamed to 
mention; it moves my zeal and my spleen for 
the honour and interest of our vast flourishing 
body, as well as of myself, for whom I know by 
long experience, he has professed, and still conti- 
nues a peculiar malice. 

It is not unlikely, that when your Highness 
will one day peruse what I am now writing, you 
maybe ready to expostulate with your governor 
upon the credit of what I here affirm, and com- 
mandhim to shew you some of our productions. 
To which he will answer, (for I am well informed 
of his designs) by asking your Highness where 
they are? and what is become of them? and 
pretend it a demonstration that there never 
were any, because they are not then to be found. 
Not to be found! Who has mislaid them? Are 
they sunk in the abyss of things ? It is certain, 
that in their own nature they were light enough 
to swim upon the surface for all eternity. There- 
fore the fault is in him, who tied weights so 
heavy to their heels, as to depress them to the 
center. Is their very essence destroyed? who 
has annihilated them ? were they drowned by 
purges, or martyred by pipes ? who administered 
them to the posteriors of - ■ ■" ? But that it 



PRINCE POSTERITY. 35 

-■ " --> ■"■ ■ * " • ' " ....,.,. , — ,. 

may no longer be a doubt with your High- 
ness, who is to be the author of this universal 
ruin; I beseech you to observe that large and 
terrible scythe, which your governor affects to 
bear continually about him. Be pleased to re- 
mark the lengthi and strength, the sharpness and 
hardness of his nails and teeth; consider his 
baneful abominable breath, enemy to life and 
matter, infectious and corrupting ; and then re- 
flect whether it be possible for any mortal ink or 
paper of this generation to make a suitable re- 
sistance. Oh ! that your Highness would one 
day resolve to disarm this usurping maitre da 
palais* of his furious engines, and bring your 
empire hors de page.f 

It were endless to recount the several methods 
of tyranny and destruction, which your gover- 
nor is pleased to practise on this occasion. 
His inveterate malice is such to the writings of 
our age, that of several thousands produced 
yearly from this renowned city, before the next 
revolution of the sun, there is not one to be 

♦Comptroller. The kingdom of France bad a race of 
kings, which they call les rays faineans, [from their doing 
nothing,] who lived lazily in their apartments, while the 
kingdom was administered by the mayor depalais; till 
Charles Martel, the last mayor, put his master to death, 
andtook the kingdom into his own hand. Hatcks. 

f Out of guardianship. 

€ 6 



36 THE DEDICATION TO 

heard of: Unhappy infants, many of them barba- 
rously destroyed, before they have so much, as- 
learned their mother tongue to beg for pity. 
Some he stifles in their cradles, others he frights 
into convulsions, whereof they suddenly die; 
Some he flays alive, others he tears limb from 
limb. Great numbers are offered to Moloch, 
and the rest, tainted by his breath, die of a lan- 
guishing consumption. 

But the concern I have most at heart, is for 
our corporation of poets, from whom I am pre- 
paring a petition to your Highness, to be sub- 
scribed with the names of one hundred and thirty- 
six of the first rate, but whose immortal produc- 
tions are never likely to reach your eyes, though 
each of them is now humble and an earnest ap- 
pellant for the laurel, and has large comely vo- 
lumes to shew for a support to his pretensions. 
The never dying works of these illustrious per- 
sons, your governor, Sir, has devoted to unavoid- 
able death ; and your Highness is to be made 
believe, that our age has never arrived at the 
honour to produce one single poet. 

We confess immortality to be a great and 
powerful goddess: but in vain we offer up to 
her our devotions and our sacrifices, if your 
Highness's governor, who has usurped the priest- 
hood, must, by an unparalleled ambition and 
avarice, wholly intercept and devour them. 






PRINCE POSTERITY. 37 



To affirm that our age is altogether unlearned, 
and devoid of writers in any kind, seems to be an 
assertion so bold, and so false, that I have been 
some time thinking, the contrary may almost be 
proved by uncontroulable demonstration. It is 
true indeed, that although their numbers be vast, 
and their productions numerous in proportion ; 
yet are they hurried so hastily off the scene that 
they escape our memory, and elude our sight. 
When I first thought of this address, I had pre- 
pared acopious list of titles to present your High- 
ness, as an undisputed argument for what I af- 
firm. The originals were posted fresh upon all 
gates and corners of streets ; but, returning in a 
very few hours to take a review, they were all 
torn down, and fresh ones in their places. I 
enquired after them among readers and book- 
sellers ; but I enquired in vain ; the memorial of 
them was lost among men, their place was no more to 
be found : and I was laughed to scorn for a clown 
and a pedant, without all taste and refinement, 
little versed m the course of present affairs, and 
that knew nothing of what had passed in the best - 
companies of court and town. So that I can on- 
ly avow in general to your Highness, that w£ do 
abound in learning and wit; but to fix upon par- 
ticulars, is a task too slippery for my slender abi- 
lities. If I should venture in a windy day to 
aflirm to your Highness, that there is a large 



THE DEDICATION TO 



cloud near the horizon, in the form of a bear ; 
another in the zenith, with the head of an ass ; a 
third to the westward, with claws like a dragon; 
and your Highness should in a few minutes think 
fit to examine the truth ; it is certain, they would 
all be changed in figure and position ; new ones 
would arise ; and all we could agree upon, would 
be, that clouds there were, but that I was grossly 
mistaken in the zoography and topography of 
them. 

But your governor, perhaps, may still insist 
and put the question. What is then become of 
those immense bales of paper, which must needs 
have been employed in such numbers of books ? 
Can these also be wholly annihilate, and so of a 
sudden as I pretend? What shall I say in return 
of so invidious an objection ? it ill befits the dis- 
tance between your Highness and me, to send 
you for ocular conviction to a iakes, or an oven ; 
to the windows of a bawdy-house, or to a sordid 
lanthorn. Books, like men their authojs, have no 
more than one way of coming into the world, 
but there are ten thousand to go out of it> and re- 
turn no more. 

I profess to your Highness,, in the integrity of 
my heart, that what I am going to say is literally 
true this minute I am writing. What revolu- 
tions may happen before it shall be ready for 
your perusal, I can by no means warrant. How- 



PRINCE POSTERITY. 39 

ever, I beg you to accept it as a specimen of our 
learning, our politeness, and our wit. I do there- 
fore affirm, upon the word of a sincere man, that 
there is now actually in being, a certain poet called 
John Dryden, whose translation of Virgil was 
lately printed in a large folio, well bound, and if 
diligent search were made, for ought I know, is 
yet to be seen. There is another called Nahum 
Tate, who is ready to make oath that he has caus- 
ed many reams of verse to be published, whereof 
both himself and his bookseller (if lawfully re- 
quired) can still produce authentic copies, and 
therefore wonders why the world is pleased to 
make such a secret of it. There is a third, known 
by the name of Tom Durfey, a poet of a vast 
comprehension, and universal genius, and most 
profound learning. There are also one Mr. Ry- 
mer, and one Mr. Dennis, most profound critics. 
There is a person styled Dr. B — tl — y, who has 
written near a thousand pages of immense eru- 
dition, giving a full and true account of a certain 
squabble of wonderful importance between him- 
self and a bookseller* He is a writer of infinite 
wit and humour; no man rallies with abetter 

* Bentley, in his controversy with Lord Orrery, upon the 
genuineness of Phalaris's epistles, has given, in a preface, 
a long account of his dialogues with a bookseller, about the 
loan and restitution of a MS. Hazcks. 



40 THE DEDICATION TO 

grace, and in more sprightly turns. Farther I 
avow to your Highness, that with these eyes I 
have beheld the person of William W — tt — n, 
B. D. who has written a good sizeable volume 
against a friend of your governor* (from whom, 
alas! he must therefore look for little favour) in 
a most gentlemanly stile, adorned with the utmost 
politeness and civility; replete with discoveries, 
equally valuable for their novelty and use ; and 
embellished with traits of wit so poignant and 
so apposite, that he is a worthy yokemate to his 
fore-mentioned friend. 

Why should I go upon farther particulars, 
which' might fill a volume with the just eulogies 
of my contemporary brethren? I shall bequeath 
this piece of justice to a larger work ; wherein I 
intend to write a character of the present set of 
wits in our nation. Their persons I shall describe 
particularly, and at length ; their genius and un- 
derstanding in miniature. 

In the mean time, I do here make bold to pre- 
sent your Highness with a faithful abstract, drawn- 
from the Universal body of all arts and sciences, 
intended wholly for your service and instruction. 
Nor do I doubt in the least, but your Highness 
will peruse it as carefully, and make as conside- 
rable improvements,, as other young princes have 

| Sir William Temple 






PRINCE POSTERITY. 41 

already done, by the many volumes of late years 
written for a help to their studies.* 

That your Highness may advance in wisdom 
and virtue, as well as years, and at last out-shine 
all vourrjyal ancestors, shall be the daily prayex 
•f, 

SIR, 

Your Highness's 

December, 
1697. 

Most devoted, &e. 



* There were innumerable books printed for the use 0/ 
the Dauphin of France. Hawks. 



42 THE PREFACE. 



1*Z 



PREFACE- 



THE wits of the present age being so very 
numerous and penetrating, it seems the gran- 
dees of church and state begin to fall under 
horrible apprehensions, lest these gentlemen, 
during the intervals of a long peace, should find 
leisure to pick holes in the weak sides of religion 
and government. To prevent which, there has 
been much thought employed of late, upon cer- 
tain projects for taking off' the force and edge of 
those formidable inquirers, from canvassing and 
reasoning upon such delicate points. They have 
at length fixed upon one, which will require 
some time as well as cost to perfect. Mean while, 
the danger hourly increasing, by new levies of 
wits, all appointed (as there is reason to fear) 
with pen, ink, and paper, which may, at an 
hour's warping, be drawn out into pamphlets, 
and other offensive weapons, ready for immediate 
execution; it was judged of absolute necessity 




. 



THE PREFACE. 43 



that some present expedient be thought on, till 
the main design can be brought to maturity. To 
this end, at a grand committee, some days ago, 
this important discovery was made by a certain 
curious and refined observer, That seamen have 
a custom, when they meet a whale, to fling him 
out an empty tub, by way of amusement, to di- 
vert him from laying violent hands upon the ship. 
This parable was immediately my thologized. The 
whale was interpreted to be Hobbes's Leviathan ; 
which tosses and plays with all schemes of religion 
and government, whereof a great many are hol- 
low, and dry, and empty, and noisy, and wooden, 
and given to rotation. This is the Leviathan, 
from whence the terrible wits of our age are said 
to borrow their we v apons. The ship in danger, 
is easily understood to be its old antitype, the 
commonwealth. But how to analyse the tub, was 
a matter of difficulty ; when, after long enquiry 
and debate, the literal meaning was preserved: 
And it was decreed, that, in order to prevent 
these Leviathans from tossing and sporting with 
the commonwealth, which of itself is too apt to 
fluctuate, they should be diverted from that game 
by a Tale of a Tub. And my genius being con- 
ceived to lie not unhappily that way, i had the 
honour done me to be engaged in the perfor- 
mance. 
This is the sole design in publishing the fol- 



44 THE PREFACE. 



lowing treatise; which, I hope, will serve for an 
interim of some months to employ those unquiet 
spirits, till the perfecting of that great work : 
into the secret of which, it is reasonable the 
courteous reader should have some little light. 

It is intended, that a large academy be erected, 
capable of containing nine thousand seven hun- 
dred forty and three persons; which, by modest 
computation, is reckoned to be pretty near the 
current number of wits in this island. These 
are to be disposed into the several schools of thi& 
academy, and there pursue those studies to which 
their genius most inclines them. The undertaker 
himself will publish his proposals with all con- 
venient speed; to which I shall refer the curiou* 
reader for a more particular 'account, mention- 
ing at present only a few of the principal schools. 
There is, first, a large pcederastic school, w T ith 
French and Italian masters: There is, also, the 
spelling school, a very spacious buildings the school 
of looking glasses-, the school of szoearing; the 
school of critics; the school of salivation ; the 
school of hobby-horses; the school of poetry; the 
school of tops*; the school of spleen; the school 
of gaming; and many others too tedious to re- 

* This I think the author should have omitted, it being 
of the very same nature with the school of hobby-horses, if 
one may venture to censure one, who is so severe 1 a census 
rer of others^ perhaps with top little distinction. 



THE fcRE'FACE*. 45 



count. No person to be admitted member into 
any of these schools, without an attestation un- 
der two sufficient persons hands, certifying him 
to be a wit. 

But to return; I am sufficiently instructed in 
the principal duty of a preface, if my genius 
were capable of arriving at it. Thrice have I 
forced my imagination to make the tour of my 
invention, and thrice it has returned empty; the 
latter having been wholly drained by the follow- 
ing treatise. Not so my more successful brethren 
the moderns, who will by no means let slip a pre- 
face or dedication without some notable distin- 
guishing stroke to surprise the reader at the en- 
try, and kindle a wonderful expectation of what 
is to ensue. Such was that of a most ingenious 
poet, who, soliciting his brain for something new, 
compared himself to the hangman, and his pa- 
tron to the patient. This was insigne, recens, in^ 
dictum ore alio*. When I went through that ne- 
cessary and noble course of study f, I had the 
happiness to observe many such egregious touch- 
es ; which I shall not injure the authors by trans- 
planting; because I have remarked, that nothing 
h so very tender as a modern piece of wit, and 

* Hor. Something extraordinary, new, and never hit 
wpon before* 

t. Reading prefaces, &«. 



46 THE PREFACE. 



which is very apt to puffer so much iu the car- 
riage. Some things are extremely witty to-day, 
or fasting, or in this place, or at eight a clock, or 
over a bottle, or spoke by Mr What d'ycalVm, or 
in a summer's morning; any of the which, by the 
smallest transposal or misapplication, is utterly 
annihilate. Thus, Wit has its walks and pur- 
lieus, out of which it may not stray the breadth 
of an hair, upon peril of being lost. The mo- 
derns have artfully fixed this mercury, and re- 
duced it to the circumstances of time, place, and 
person. Such a jest there is, that will not pass 
out of Co vent-garden ; and such a one, that is 
no where intelligible but at Hyde-park corner. 
Now, though it sometimes tenderly affects me, 
to consider, that all the towardly passages I shall 
deliver in the following treatise will grow quite 
out of date and relish with the first shifting of 
the present scene; yet I must needs subscribe to 
the justice of this proceeding; because I cannot 
imagine why we should be at expence to fur- 
nish wit for succeeding ages, when the former 
have made no sort of provision for ours; wherein 
I speak the sentiment of the very newest, and con- 
sequently the most orthodox refiners, as well as 
my own. However, being extremely solicitous, 
that every accomplished person, who has got in- 
to the taste of wit calculated for this present 
month of August 1697, should descend to the 



THE PREFACE. 47 

very bottom of all the sublime throughout this 
treatise; I hold fit to lay down this general 
maxim; Whatever reader desires to have a tho- 
rough comprehension of an author's thoughts, 
cannot take a better method, than by putting 
himself into the circumstances and postures of 
life, that the writer was in upon every important 
passage, as it flowed from his pen; for this will 
introduce a parity and strict correspondence of 
ideas between the reader and the author. Now, 
to assist the diligent reader in so delicate an affair, 
as far as brevity will permit, I have recollected, 
that the shrewdest pieces of this treatise were 
conceived in bed, in a garret. At other times, 
for a reason best known to myself, I thought fit 
to sharpen my invention with hunger; and, in 
general, the whole work was begun, continued, 
and ended, under along course of physic, and a 
great want of money. Now I do affirm, it will 
be absolutely impossible for the candid peruser to 
go along with me in a great many bright passa- 
ges, unless, upon the several difficulties emer- 
gent, he will please to capacitate and prepare 
himself by these directions. And this I lay 
down as my principal postulatum. 

Because I have professed to be a most devoted 
servant of all modern forms, I apprehend some 
curious wit may object against me, for proceed- 
ing thus far in a preface, without declaiming ac- 



48 



THE PREFACE. 



cording to the custom, against the multitude of 
writers, whereof the whole multitude of writers 
most reasonably complain. I am just come from 
perusing some hundreds of prefaces, wherein the 
authors do at the very beginning address the 
gentle reader concerning this enormous grie- 
vance. Of these I have preserved a few exam- 
ples, and shall set them down as near as my me* 
mory has been able to retain them. 

One begins thus: 

For a man to set up for a writer, when the pres% 
$warms with, &c. 

Another: 

The tax upon paper does not lessen the number of 
scribblers, who daily pester, &c. 

Another : 

When every little would-be-wit takes pen in hand, 
f tis in vain to enter the lists, &c. 

Another: 

To observe what trash the press swarms with, &c. 

Another: 

Sir, It is merely in obedience to your commands, 
that I venture into the public ;for who, upon a less 
consideration, would be of a party with such a rab- 
ble of scribblers ? &c. 

Now, I have two words in my own defence a- 
gainst this objection. First, I am far from grant- 
ing the number of writers a nuisance to our na- 
tion having strenuously maintained the contrary 



! 



tHE PREFACE. 49 

in several parts of the following discourse. Se- 
condly, I do not well understand the justice of 
this proceeding; because I observe many of these 
polite prefaces to be not only from the same hand, 
but from those who are most voluminous in their 
several productions. Upon which I shall tell the 
reader a short tale. 

A mountebank, in Leicester-fields, had drawn 
a huge assembly about him. Among the rest, a 
fat unwieldy fellow half stifled in the press, would 
be every fit crying out, Lord ! what a fiithy 
croud is here? Pray, good people, give way a 
little. Bless me! what a devil has raked this rab- 
ble together ? Z ds, what squeezing is this! 

Honest friend, remove your elbow. At last, a 
zveaver, that stood next him, could hold no lon- 
ger: A plague confound you (said he) for an 
overgrown sloven; and who, in the devil's name, 
I wonder, helps to make up the croud half so 
much as yourself? Don't you consider, with a 
pox, that you take up more room with that car- 
case than any five here? Is not the place as free 
for us as for you ? Bring your own guts to a rea- 
sonable compass, and be d— n'd; and then I'll 
engage we shall have room enough for us all. 

There are certain common privileges of a wri- 
ter, the benefit whereof, I hope, there will be no 
reason to doubt; particularly, that, where I am 
not understood, it shall be concluded, that some- 



50 THE PREFACE. 



thing very useful and profound is couched un- 
derneath ; and again, that whatever word or sen- 
tence is printed in a different character, shall be 
judged to contain something extraordinary, ei- 
ther of wit, or sublime. 

As for the liberty I have thought fit to take of 
praising myself, upon some occasions or none; I 
am sure it will need no excuse, if a multitude of 
great examples be allowed sufficient authority. 
For it is here to be noted, that praise was origi- 
nally a pension paid by the world: But the ?no- 
derns, finding the trouble and charge too great 
in collecting it, have lately bought out the fee- 
simple; since which time, the right of presentation 
is wholly in ourselves. For this reason it is that 
when an author makes his own elogy, he uses 
a certain form to declare and insist upon his ti- 
tle, which is commonly in these or the like 
words, 1 speak without vanity: Which I think 
plainly shews it to be a matter of right and justice. 
Now, I do here once for all declare, that in every 
encounter of this nature, through the following 
treatise, the form aforesaid is implied; which I 
mention, to save the trouble of repeating it on so 
many occasions. 

Itis a great ease to my conscience, that lhave 
written so elaborate and useful a discourse, with- 
out one grain of satire intermixed; which is the 
sole point wherein I have taken leave to dissent 



THE PREFACE. 51 



from the famous originals of our age and coun- 
try. I have observed some satirists, to use the 
public much at the rate that pedants do a naugh- 
ty boy ready horsed for discipline : First, expos- 
tulate the case, then plead the necessity of the 
rod, from great provocations, and conclude every 
period with a lash. Now, if I know any thing 
of mankind, these gentlemen might very well 
spare their reproof and correction: For there is 
not, through all nature, another so callous and 
insensible a member as the world's posteriors, whe- 
ther you apply to it the toe or the birch. Besides, 
most of our late satirists seem to lie under a sort 
of mistake, that because nettles have the preroga- 
tive to sting, therefore all other weeds must do so 
too. I make not this comparison out of the least 
design to detract from these worthy writers: For 
it is well known among mythologists, that weeds 
have the pre-eminence over all other vegetables ; 
and therefore the first monarch of this island, 
whose taste and judgement were so acute and re- 
fined, did very wisely root the roses from the 
collar of the order, and plant the thistles in their 
stead, as the nobler flower of the two. For 
which reason it is conjectured by profounder an- 
tiquaries, that the satirical itch, so prevalent in 
this part of our island, was first brought among 
us from beyond the Tweed. Here may it long 

flourish and abound. May it survive, and neglect 
d 2 



52 THE PREFACE. 



the scorn of the world, with as much ease and 
contempt as the world is insensible to the laches 
of it. May their own dulness, or that of their 
party, be no discouragement for the authors to 
proceed; but let them remember, it is with wits 
as with razors, which are never so apt to cut 
those they are employed on, as when they have 
lost their edge. Besides, those whose teeth are 
too rotten to bite, are best of all others qualified 
to revenue that defect with their breath. 

I am not, like other men, to envy or underva- 
lue the talents I cannot reach ; for which reason, 
I must needs bear a true honour to this large emi- 
nent sect of our British writers. And I hope, this 
little panegyric will not be offensive t » thfir ears, 
since it has the advantage of being only design- 
ed for themselves. Indeed, Nature heisefhas 
taken order, that fame and honour should be 
purchased at a better pennyworth by satire, than 
by any other productions of the brain ; the 
world being soonest provoked to praise by lashes, 
as men are to love. There is a problem in an 
ancient author, why dedications, and other bun- 
dles of flattery, run all upon stale musty topics, 
without the smallest tincture of any thing new; 
not only to the torment and miuseating of the 
Christian reader, but, if not suddenly prevented, 
to the universal spreading ofthat pestilent disease, 
the lethargy, in this island : Whereas there is 



THE PREFACE. ,55 



very little satire, which has not something in it 
untouched before. The defects of the former 
are usually imputed to the want of invention a- 
mong those who are dealers in that kind; but, 
I think, with a great deal of injustice; the solu- 
tion being easy and natural. For the materials of 
panegyric, being very few in number, have been 
knw since exhausted. For as health is but one 

o 

thing, aud has been always the same ; whereas 
diseases are by thousands, besides new and daily 
additions: so all the virtues that have been ever 
in mankind, are to be counted upon a few fin- 
gers; but his follies and vices are innumerable, 
and time adds hourly to the heap. Now, the 
utmost a poor poet can do, is to get by heart a 
list of the cardinal virtues, and deal them with his 
utmost liberality to his hero or his patron. He 
may ring the changes as far as it will go, and va- 
ry his phrase till he has talked round: But the 
reader quickly finds it is all pork # , with a little 
yariety of sauce. For there is no inventing 
terms of art beyond our ideas ; and when our 
ideas are exhausted, terms of art must be so 
too. 

But though the matter for panegyric were as 
fruitful as the topics of satire, yet would it not be 
hard to find out a sufficient reason, why the lat- 

* Plutarch. 
D 3 



54 THE PREFACE. 



ter will he always better received than the first. 
For this being bestowed only upon one or a few 
persons at a time,, is sure to raise envy,.and con- 
sequently ill words, from the rest, who have no 
share in the blessing. But satire, being levelled 
at all, is never resented for an offence by any; 
since every individual person makes bold to un- 
derstand it of others, and very wisely removes his 
particular part, of the burthen upon the shoulders 
of the world, which are broad enough, and able 
to bear it. To this purpose, I have sometimes 
reflected upon the difference between Athens and 
England, with respect to the point before us. In 
the Attic commonwealth # , it was the privilege 
and birthright of every citizen and poet, to rail 
aloud, and in public; or to expose upon the stage* 
by name, any person they pleased, though of the 
greatest figure, whether a Creon, an Hyperbo- 
lus, an Alcibiades, or a Demosthenes. But, on 
the other side, the least reflecting word let fall 
against the people in general, was immediately 
caught up, and revenged upon the authors, how- 
ever considerable for their quality or their merits. 
Whereas in England it is just the reverse of all 
this. Here, you may securely display your ut- 
most rhetoric against mankind, in the face of the 
world: Tell them, That all are gone astray; that 



* Vid. Xenoph. 



THE PREFACE. 55 

there is none thai doth good, no not one; that we live 
in the very dregs of time] that knavery and atheism 
are epidemic as the pox; that honesty isjiedwith 
Astrcea ; with any other common places, equally 
new and eloquent, which are furnished by the 
splendida bilis*. And when you have done, the 
whole audience, far from being offended, shall 
return you thanks, as a deliverer of precious and 
useful truths. Nay farther, it is but to venture 
your lungs, and you may preach in Covent-Gar- 
den against foppery and fornication, and some* 
thing else ; against pride and dissimulation, and 
bribery, at Whitehall: you may expose rapine 
and injustice in the inns of court chapel ; H and in 
a c/ty-pulpit, be as fierce as you please against 
avarice, hypocrisy, and extortion. It is but a 
ball bandied to and fro; and every man carries a 
racket about him, to strike it from himself among 
the rest of the company. But, on the other side, 
whoever should mistake the nature of things, so far 
as to drop but a single hint in public, how such a one 
starved half the fleet, and half poisoned the rest; 
how such a one, from a true principle of love and 
honour, pays no debts but for wenches smdplay ; 
how such a one has got a clap, and runs out of 
his estate; how Paris, bribed byJunoand Venusf , 

* Hor. Spleen. 

t Juno and Venus, are money and a mistress; very 
powerful bribes to a judge, it" scaudal. says true. I re- 
D. 4 



56 THE PREFACE. 



Joth to offend either party, slept out the whole 
cause on the bench ; or, how such an orator makes 
long speeches in the senate with much thought, 
little sense, and to no purpose: Whoever, I say, 
should venture to be thus particular, must expect 
to be imprisoned for scandalum ma gnat urn ; to have 
challenges sent him; to be sued for defamation \ 
and to be brought before the bar of the house. 

But I forgot that I am expatiating on a subject 
wherein I have no concern, having neither a ta- 
lent nor an inclination for satire. On the other 
side, I am so entirely satisfied with the whole pre- 
sent procedure of human things, that I have been 
someyears preparing materials towards A panegy- 
ric upon the world, to which I intended to add a se- 
cond part, intituled, A modest defence of the pro- 
ceedings of the rabble in all ages. Both these I had 
thought to publish, by way of appendix to the 
following treatise; but, finding my common- 
place book fill much slower than I had reason to 
expect, I have chosen to defer them to another 
occasion. Besides, I have been unhappily pre- 
vented in that design by a certain domestic 
misfortune : In the particulars whereof, though 
it would be very seasonable and much in the 
modern way, to inform the gentle reader, and 

member such reflections were cast about that time, but I 
cannot fix the person intended here. 






THE PREFACE. 57 



would also be of great assistance towards 
extending this preface into the size now in 
vogue, which by rule ought to be large, in 
proportion as the subsequent volume is small; 
yet I shall now dismiss our impatient reader from 
any farther attendance at the porch; and, having 
duly prepared his mind by a preliminary dis- 
course, shall gladly introduce him to the sublime 
mysteries that ensue. 



B* 



A 

TALE OF A TUB/ 



SECT. I. 
THE INTRODUCTION, f 



WHOEVER hath an ambition to be heard 
in a crowd, must press, and squeeze, and thrust, 
and climb, with indefatigable pains, till he has 
exalted himself to a certain degree of altitude 
above them. Now, in all assemblies, though 
you wedge them ever so close, we may observe 
this peculiar property, that over their heads 

* The Tale of a Tub has made much noise in the world. 
It was one of Swift's earliest performances, and has never 
been excelled in wit and spirit by his own, or any other pen. 
The censures that have passed upon it are various. The 
most material of which, were such as reflected upon Dr. 
Swift, in the character of a clergyman, and a Christian. It 
has been one of the misfortunes attending Christianity, 
that many of her sons, from a mistaken filial piety, have 
indulged themselves in too restrained and too melanr hoi/ 
n6 



60 A TALE OF A TUB. 

/ 

there is room enough ? but how to reach it, is 
the difficult point; it being as hard to get quit 
of number } as of hell: 

evadcre ad auras, 
Hoc opus, hie labor est *. 

To this end, the philosopher's way, in all ages, 
has been by erecting certain edifices in the air. 
But, whatever practice and reputation these kinds 

a way of thinking. Can we wonder then, if a book, compo- 
sed with all the force of wit and humour, in derision of sa- 
cerdotal tyranny, in ridicule of grave hypocrisy, and in con- 
tempt of flegmatic stiffness, should be wilfully misconstru- 
ed by some persons, and ignorantly mistaken by others, as 
a sarcasm and reflection upon the whole Christian church? 
Swift's ungovernable spirit of irony has sometimes carried 
him into very unwarrantable flights of wit. In the style 
of truth, I must look upon the Tale of a Tub, as no intended 
insult against Christianity, but as a satire against the wild 
errors of the church of Rome, the slow and incomplete re- 
formation of the Lutherans, and the absurd and affected 
aeal of the Presbyterians. Orrery. 

f The Introduction abounds with wit and humour. But 
the author never loses the least opportunity of venting his 
keenest satire against Mr Dryden, and consequently, loads 
with insults, the greatest, although the least prosperous, of 
our English poets. Yet who can avoid smiling, when he 
finds the Hind and Panther, as a complete abstract of sixteen 
thousand schoolmen, and when Tommy Pots is supposed 
written by the same hand, as a supplement to the former work f 
I am willing to imagine, that Dryden, in some manner cr 



THE INTRODUCTION. 6l 

of structures have formerly possessed, or may still 
continue in, not excepting even that of Socrates, 
when he was suspended in a basket to help con- 
templation ; I think, with due submission, they 
seem to labour under two inconveniences. First, 
That the foundations being laid too high, they 
have been often out of sight, and ever out of 
hearing. Secondly, That the materials, being very 
transitory, have suffered much from inclemencies 
of air, especially in these north-west regions. 

Therefore, towards the just performance of 
this great work, there remain but three methods 
that I can think on; whereof the wisdom of our 
ancestors being highly sensible, has, to encourage 
all aspiring adventurers, thought fit to erect three 
wooden machines for the use of those orators, 

other, had offended Swift, who, otherwise, I hope, would 
have been more indulgent to the errors of a man oppressed 
by poverty, driven on by party, and bewildered by religion % 
But although our satirical author, now and then, may 
have indulged himself in some personal animosities, or 
may have taken freedoms not so perfectly consistent with 
that solemn decency which is required from a clergyman; 
yet, throughout the whole piece, there is a vein of ridicule 
and good humour, that laughs pedantry and affectation in- 
to the lowest degree of contempt, and exposes the charac- 
ter of Peter and Jack in such a manner, as never will be 
forgiven, and never can be an answered. Orrery. 

* But to return, and view the cheerful skies; 
In this the task and mighty labour lies. 



62 A TALE OF A TUB. 

who desire to talk much without interruption. 
These are, the pulpit, the ladder, and the stage 
itinerant. For, as to the bar, though it be com- 
pounded of the same matter, and designed for 
the same use, it cannot however be well allowed 
the honour of the fourth, by reason of its level 
or inferior situation, exposing it to the perpetual 
interruption from collaterals. Neither can the 
bench itself, though raised to a proper eminency, 
putin abetter claim, whatever its advocates insist 
on. For, if they please to look into the original 
design of its erection, and the circumstances or 
adjuncts subservient to that design, they willsoon 
acknowledge the present practice exactly corres- 
pondent to the primitive institution ; and both to 
answer the etymology of the name, which in the 
Phoenician tongue is a word of great signification, 
importing, if literally interpreted, theplace of 
sleep ; but in common acceptation, a seat well bol- 
stered and cushioned, for the repose of old and gouty 
limbs: Senes ut in otia tuta recedant: Fortune 
being indebted to them this part of retaliation, 
that, as formerly they have long talked, whilst 
others slept, so now they may sleep as long, whilst 
others talk. 

But if no other argument could occur, to ex~ 
elude the bench and the bar from the list ofora- 
torial machines, it were sufficient, that the ad- 
mission of them would overthrow a number 



THE INTRODUCTION. 63 

which I was resolved to establish, whatever argu- 
ment it might cost me; in imitation of that pru- 
dent method observed by many other philosophers 
and great clerks, whose chief art in division has 
been to grow fond of some proper mystical num- 
ber, which their imaginations have rendered sa- 
cred, to a degree, that they force common rea- 
son to find room for it in every part of nature ; 
reducing, including, and adjusting every genus 
and species, within that compass, by coupling 
some against their wills, and banishing others at 
any rate. Now, among all the rest, the pro- 
found number THREE is that which hath most 
employed my sublimest speculations, nor ever 
without wonderful delight. There is now in the 
press, and will be published next term, a panegy- 
rical essay of mine upon this number; wherein 
I have, by most convincing proofs, not only re- 
duced the senses and the elements under its banner, 
but brought over several deserters from its two 
great rivals, SEVEN and NINE. 

Now, the first of these oratorial machines in 
place, as well as in dignity, is the pulpit. Of 
pulpits there are in this island several sorts ; but I 
esteem only that made of timber from the sylva 
Caledonia, which agrees very well with our cli- 
mate. If it be upon its decay, it is the better both 
for conveyance of sound, and for other reasons to 
be mentioned by and by. The degree of perfection 



i 



64 A TALE OF A TUR. 

in shape and size, I tajte to consist in being ex"" 
tremely narrow, with little ornament, and best of 
all without a cover, (for, by ancient rule, it ought 
to be the only uncovered vessel in every assembly r 
where it is rightfully used;) by which means, 
from its near resemblance to a pillory, it wilL 
ever have a mighty influence on human ears. 

Of ladders I need say nothing. It is observed 
by foreigners themselves, to the honour of our 
country, that we excel all nations in our prac- 
tice and understanding of this machine. The 
ascending orators do not only oblige their audi- 
ence in the agreeable delivery, but the whole 
world in the early publication of their speeches; 
which I look upon as the choicest treasury of our 
British eloquence, and whereof, I am informed* 
that worthy citizen and bookseller, Mr* John 
Dun ton, hath made a faithful and a painful coU 
lection, which he shortly designs to publish in 
twelve volumes in folio, illustrated with copper- 
plates: A work highly useful and curious, and 
altogether worthy of such a hand. 

The last engine of orators isr the stage-itine- 
rant*, erected with much sagacity, sub Joveplu- 
vio in triviis et quadriviisf. It is the great se- 

* Is the mountebank's stage, whose orators the author 
determines either to the gallows or a. conventicle. 

t In the open air, and in streets where the greatest 
resort is* 



__ 



THE INTRODUCTION. 63 



minary of the two former, and its orators are 
sometimes preferred to the one, and sometimes to 
the other, in proportion to their deserving, there 
being a strict and perpetual intercourse between 
all three. 

From this accurate deduction it is manifest* 
that for obtaining attention in public, there is of 
necessity required a superior position of place. 
But although this point be generally granted, yet 
the cause is little agreed in; and it seems to me, 
that very few philosophers have fallen into a true, 
natural solution of this phenomenon. Thedeepest 
account, and the most fairly digested of any I 
have yet met with, is this, That air being a heavy 
body, and therefore, according to the system of 
Epicurus*, continually descending, must needs 
be more so, when loaden and pressed down by 
words; which are also bodies of much weight 
and gravity, as it is manifest from those deep im- 
pressions they make and leave upon us; and there- 
fore must be delivered from a due altitude, or 
else they will neither carry a good aim, nor fall 
down with a sufficient force. 

Corpoream quoque enim vocem constare fatendum est, 
Et sonituin, quoniam possunt impellere sensusf. 

Lucr. lib. 4. 

# Lucret. lib. 2. 

f 'Tis certain then, that voice, that thus can wound, 
Is all material; body every sound* 



6Q A TALE OF A TUB. 

And I am the readier to favour this conjecture, 
from a common observation, that* in the several 
assemblies of these orators, nature itself hath in- 
structed the hearers to stand with their mouths 
open, and erected parallel to the horizon, so as 
they may be intersected by a perpendicular line 
from the zenith to the centre of the earth. In 
which position, if the audience be well compact, 
every one carries home a share, and little or no- 
thing is lost. 

I confess, there is something yet more refined 
in the contrivance and structure of our modern 
theatres. For, first, the pit is sunk below the 
stage, with due regard to the institution above 
deduced; that whatever weighty matter shall be 
delivered thence, whether it be lead or gold, may 
fall plum into the jaws of certain critics, as £ 
think they are called, which stand ready opened 
to devour them. Then, the boxes are built 
round, and raised to a level with the scene, in 
deference to the ladies; because that large por- 
tion of wit, laid out in raising pruriences and pro- 
tuberances, is observed to run much upon a line, 
and ever in a circle. The whining passions, and 
little starved conceits, are gently wafted up, by 
their own extreme levity, to the middle region; 
and there fix, and are frozen by the frigid under- 
standings of the inhabitants. Bombastry and 
buffooary, by nature lofty and light, soar highest 



THE INTRODUCTION. 67 

of all; and would be lost in the roof, if the pru- 
dent architect had not with much foresight con- 
trived for them a fourth place, called the twelve- 
penny gallery, and there planted a suitable colony, 
w T ho greedily intercept them in their passage. 

Now, this physico-logical scheme of oratorial 
receptacles or machines, contains a great mystery ; 
being a type, a sign, an emblem, a shadow, a 
symbol, bearing analogy to the spacious com- 
monwealth of writers, and to those methods by 
which they must exalt themselves to a certain 
eminency above the inferior world. By the pul- 
pit are adumbrated the writings of ouv modern 
saints in Great Britain, as they have spiritualized 
and refined them from the dross and grossness of 
sense and human reason. The matter, as we have 
said, is of rotten wood ; and that upon two con- 
siderations ; because it is the quality of rotten 
wood to give light in the dark : And, secondly, 
Because its cavities are full of worms; which is a 
type with a pair ofhandles # , having a respect to 
the two principal qualifications of the orator, 
and the two different fates attending upon his 
works. 

* The two principal qualifications of a fanatic preacher, 
are, his inward light, and his head full of maggots; and the 
two different fates of his writings" are, to be burnt, or 
worm eaten. 



68 A TA1E OF A TUB. 

The ladder is an adequate symbol of faction, 
and of poetry ; to both of which so noble a num- 
ber of authors are indebted for their fame. Of 
faction*, because * ***** Hiatus in 

MS. 



* 


# 


# 


# 


# 


* 


# 


# 


* 


* 


* 


# 


# 


# 


# 


# 


* 


* 


# 


# 


* 


* 


# 


# 


# 


* 


* 


* 


# 


* 


* 


# 


# 



Ofpoetryl 

because its orators do perorare wkh a song; and, 
because, climbing up by slow degrees, Fate is sure 
to turn them off before they can reach within 
many steps of the top; and because it is a prefer- 
ment attained by transfering of property, and a 
confounding of meum and tuum. 

Under the stage-itinerant are couched those 
productions designed for the pleasure and delight 
of mortal man ; such as, Sixpenny-worth of Wit, 
Westminster Drolleries, Delightful Tales, Complete 
Jesters, and the like ; by which the writers of and 
for GRUB— STREET, have, in these latter ages, 
so nobly triumphed over Time', have clipped his 
wings, pared his nails, filed his teeth, turned back 
his hour glass, blunted his scythe, and drawn th< 



I 



* Here is pretended a defect in the manuscript; and this 
is very frequent with our author, either when he thinks he 
cannot say any think worth reading; or when lie has no 
mind to enter on the subject; or when it is a matter of lit- 
tle moment; or, perhaps, to amuse his reader, whereof he 
is frequently very fond; or, lastly, with some satirical 
iatentian. 



THE INTRODUCTION. 69 



hobnails out of his shoes Lt is under this class I 
have presumed to list my presenr treatise, being 
just come from having the honour conferred up- 
on me, to be adopted a member of that illustri- 
ous fraternity. 

Now, L am not unaware, how the productions 
of the Grub-street brotherhood have of late years 
fallen under many prejudices; nor how it has 
been the perpetual employment oi two junior 
start-up societies, to ridicule them and their au- 
thors, as unworthy their established post in the 
commonwealth of wit and learning. Their own 
consciences will easily inform them whom I 
mean. Nor has the world been so negligent a 
looker on, as not to observe the continual efforts 
made by the societies of Gresham*, and of 
Will's f, to edify a name and reputation upon the 
ruin of OURS. And this is yet a more feeling 
grief to us, upon the regards of tenderness as 
well as of justice, when we reflect on their pro- 
ceedings, uot only as unjust, but as ungrateful, 
undutiful, and unnatural. For how can it be 

* Gresham college was the place where the Royal soci- 
ety then met, from whence they removed to Crane-court 
in. Fleet-street. 

f Will's coffee-house in Covent-garlen, was formerly the 
place where the poets usually met; which, though it be 
yet fresh in memory, in some years may be forgotten, and 
want this explanation. 



70 A TALE OF A TUB. 

*orgot by the world, or themselves, to say no- 
thing of our own records, which are full and 
clear in the point, that they both are seminaries, 
not only of our planting, but our watering too ? 
I am informed, our two rivals have lately made 
an offer to enter into the lists with united forces, 
and challenge us to a comparison of books, both 
as to weight and number. In return to which, 
with licence from our president, I humbly offer 
two answers. First, we say, the proposal is like 
that which Archimedes made upon a smaller af* 
fair*, including an impossibility in the practice; 
for where can they find scales of capacity enough 
for the first, or an arithmatician of capacity 
enough for the second ? Secondly, we are ready 
to accept the challenge ; but with this condition, 
that a third indifferent person be assigned, to 
whose impartial judgment it should be left to de- 
cide, which society each book, treatise, or pam- 
phlet, do most properly belong to. This point, 
God knows, is very far from being fixed at pre- 
sent ; for we are ready to produce a catalogue of 
some thousands, which, in all common justice, 
ought to be intitled to our fraternity, but by the 
revolted and new-fangled writers most perfidious- 
ly ascribed to the others. Upon all which, we 
think it very unbecoming our prudence, that the 

# Viz. About moving the earth. 



THE INTRODUCTION. 71 

determination should be remitted to the authors 
themselves ; when our adversaries > by briguing 
and caballing, have caused so universal a defection 
from us, that the greatest part of our society 
hath already deserted to them, and our nearest 
friends begin to stand aloof, as if they were half- 
i ashamed to own us. 

This is the utmost I am authorized to say, upon 
so ungrateful and melancholy a subject; because 
we are extremely unwilling to inflame a controver- 
sy, w r hose continuance may be so fatal to the inte- 
rests of us all ; desiring much rather that things be 
amicably composed: and we shall so far advance on 
our side,as to be ready to receive the two prodigals 
with open arms, whenever they shall think fit to 
return from their husks and their harlots; w r hich, 
I think, from the present course of their stu- 
dies*, they most property may be said to be en- 
gaged in; and, like an indulgemt parent, conti- 
nue to them our affection and our blessing. 

But the greatest maim given to that general 
reception which the writings of our society have 
formerly received, (next to the transitory state of 
all sublunary things), hath been a superficial vein 
among many readers of the present age, who 
(will by no means be persuaded to inspect beyond 
the surface and the rind of things : Whereas, 

* Virtuoso experiments, and modern comedies. 



72 A TALE OF A TUB. 

wisdom is a fox, who, alter long hunting, will at 
last cost you the pains to dig out : It is a cheese, 
which, by how much the richer, has the thicker, 
the homelier, and the coarser coat; and where- 
of, to a judicious palate, the maggots are the 
best : It is a sack-posset, wherein the deeper you 
go, you will find it the sweeter. Wisdom is a 
hen, whose cackling we must value and consider, 
because is is attended w 7 ith an egg. But then, 
lastly, it is a nut, which, unless you chuse with 
judgment, may cost you a tooth, and pay you 
with nothing but a worm. In consequence of 
these momentous truths, the Grubaean sages have 
always chosen to convey their precepts and their 
arts, shut up within the vehicles of types and 
fables; which having been perhaps more careful 
and curious in adorning, than was altogether ne- 
cessary, it has fared with these vehicles, after the 
usual fate of coaches over-finely painted and 
gilt, that the transitory gazers have so dazzled 
their eyes, and filled their imaginations with 
the out-ward lustre , as neither to regard or eon* 
eider the person or the parts of the owner within: 
A misfortune we undergo with somewhat less 
reluctancy, because it has been common to us 
with Pythagoras, JEsop , Socrates , and other of 
our predecessors. 

However, that neither the world, nor ourselves, 
may any longer suffer by such misunderstandings, 



THE INTRODUCTION. 73 

I have been prevailed on, after much importunity 
from my friends, to travel in a complete and la- 
borious dissertation u r \>n the prime productions 
of our society: which, besides their beautiful ex- 
ternals for the gratification of superficial readers, 
have darkly and deeply couched under them the 
most finished and refined systems of all sciences 
and arts ; as I do not doubt to lay open by un- 
twisting or unwinding, and either to draw up 
by exantlation, or display by incision. 

This great work was entered upon some years 
ago, by one of our most eminent members. He 
began with the history of Reynard the fox # ; but 
neither lived to publish his essay, nor to proceed 
farther in so useful an attempt ; which is very 
much to be lamented, because the discovery he 
made, and communicated w r ith his friends, is 
now universally received : nor do I think any of 
I the learned will dispute that famous treatise to be 
a complete body of civil knowledge, and the re- 
velation, or rather the apocalypse of all state arcana. 
But the progress I have made is much greater, 
having already finished my annotations upon 
several dozens; from some of which I shall im~ 



* The author seems here to be mistaken; for I have 
seen a Latin edition of Reynard the fox, above a hundred 
years old, which I take to be the original; for the 
rest, it has been thought, by many people, to contain 
some satirical design in it. 

K 



74 A TALE OF A TUB. 

part a few hints to the candid reader, as far as 
will be necessary to the conclusion at which I 
aim. 

The first piece I have handled, is that of Tom 
Thumb, whose author was a Pythagorean philo- 
sopher. This dark treatise contains the whole 
scheme of the metempsychosis, deducing the pro* 
gress of the soul through all her stages. 

The next is Dr. Faustus, penned by Artephius, 
an author bonce not&, and an adeptus. He pub- 
lished it in the nine-hundredth-eighty-fourth 
year of his age*. This writer proceeds wholly 
by reincrudation, or in the via humida: And the 
marriage between Faustus and Helen does most 
conspicuously dilucidate the fermenting of the 
male and female dragon. 

Whittington and his cat is the work of that my- 
sterious Rabbi, Jehuba Hannasi ; containing a 
defence of the Gemara of the Jerusalem Misnaf, 
and its just preference to that of Babylon, con- 
trary to the vulgar opinion. 

* The chy mists say of him in their books, that he 
prolonged his life to a thousand years, and then died 
voluntarily. Hatches. 

f The Gemara is the decision, explanation, or the in- 
terpretation of the Jewish rabbies; and the Misna is pro- 
perly the code or body of the Jewish civil, or common 
law. Hazvkcs* 



THE INTRODUCTION. 75 

The Hind and Panther. This is the master 
piece of a famous writer now living*, intended 
foracomplete abstract of sixteen thousand school- 
men, from Scotus to Bellarmin. 

Tommy Pots. Another piece supposed by the 
same hand, by way of supplement to the former. 

The Wise MenofGoatham, cum appendice. This 
is a treatise of immense erudition ; being the great 
original and fountain of those arguments, bandied 
about both in France and England, for a just de- 
fence of the modems learning and wit, against the 
presumption, the pride, and ignorance of the 
ancients. This unknown author hath so ex- 
hausted the subject, that a penetrating reader will 
easily discover whatever hath been written since 
upon that dispute, to be little more than repeti- 
tion. An abstract of this treatise hath been lately 
published, by a worthy member of our society f. 

These notices may serve to give the learned 
reader an idea, as well as a taste, of what the 
whole work is likely to produce; wherein I have 
now altogether circumscribed my thoughts and 
my studies; and if I can bring it to a perfection 
before I die, shall reckon I have well employed 

* Viz. in 1698. 

f This I suppose to be understood of Mr Wotton's 
discourse of antient and modern learning, 

E 2 



76 A TALE OF A TUB. 

the poor remains of an unfortunate life # . This 
indeed is more than I can justly expect from a 
quill worn to the pith in the service of the state, 
in pro's and con's upon Popish plots, and meal- 
tubs f, and exclusion bills, and passive obedience, 
and addresses of lives and for tunes ; and prerogative, 
and property, and liberty of conscience, and letters 
to a friend : From an understanding and a con- 
science thread-bare and ragged with perpetual 
turning ; from a head broken in a hundred 
places by the malignants of the opposite factions ; 
and from a body spent with poxes ill cured, by 
trusting to bawds and surgeons, who, as it after- 
wards appeared' were professed enemies tome and 
the government, and revenged their party's quar- 
rel upon my nose and shins. Fourscore and 
eleven pamphlets have I written under three 
reigns, and for the service of six and thirty fac- 
tions. But, finding the state has no farther occa- 
sion for me and my ink, I retire willingly to draw 
it out into speculations more becoming a philoso- 
pher; having, to my unspeakable comfort, passed 
a long life with a conscience void of offence. 

* Here the author seems to personate L ? Estrange, Dry- 
den, and some others, who, after having passed their lives 
in vices, faction, and falsehood, have the impudence 
to talk of merit, and innocence, and sufferings. 

f In King Charles II/s time, there was an account 
of a Presbyterian plot, found in a tub, which then made 
much noise. 



THE INTRODUCTION. 77 

But to return: [ am assured from the reader's 
candour, that the brief specimen I have given, will 
easily clear all the rest of our society's produc- 
tions from an aspersion grown, as it is manifest, 
out of envy and ignorance, That they are of little 
farther use or value to mankind beyond the com- 
mon entertainments of their wit and their style; 
for these I am sure have never yet been disputed 
by our keenest adversaries; in both which, as well 
as the more profound and mystical part, 1 have 
throughout this treatise closely followed the most 
applauded originals. And to render all complete, 
I have, with much thought and application of 
mind, so ordered, that the chief title prefixed to 
it, I mean, that under which I design it shall pass 
in the common conversations of court and town, 
is modelled exactly after the manner peculiar to 
our society. 

I confess to have been somewhat liberal in the 
business of titles # , having observed the humour 
of multiplying them to bear great vogue among 
certain writers, whom I exceedingly reverence. 
And indeed it seems not unreasonable, that books, 
the children of the brain, should have the honour 
to be christened with variety of names, as well 

* The title page, in the original, was so torn, that 
it was not possible to recover several titles, which the 
author here speaks of. 

E 5 



78 A TALE OF A TUB. 

as other infants of quality. Our famous Dryden 
has ventured to proceed a point farther, endea- 
vouring to introduce also a multiplicity of god- 
fathers*; which is an improvement of much 
more advantage, upon a very obvious account. 
It is a pity this admirable invention has not been 
better cultivated, so as to grow by this time into 
general imitation, when such an authority serves 
it for a precedent. Nor have my endeavours 
been wanting" to second so useful an example: 
But it seems, there is an unhappy expence usually 
annexed to the calling of a godfather, which was 
clearly out of my head, as it is very reasonable to 
believe. Where the pinch }ay > I cannot certain- 
ly affirm; but having employed a world of 
thoughts and pains to split my treatise into for- 
ty sections, and having intreated forty lords of 
my acquaintance, that they would do me the 
honour to stand, they all made it a matter of 
conscience, and sent me their excuses. 

* See Virgil translated, &c. He dedicated the dif- 
ferent parts of Virgil to different patrons. 



A TALE OF A TUB. 79> 

( ^ 



SECT. IL 



ONCE upon a time, there was a man who 
had three sons by one wife # , and all at a birth ; 
neither could the midwife tell certainly which 
was the eldest. Their father died while they 
were young; and upon his deathbed, calling the 
lads to him, spoke thus ; 

Sons, Because I have purchased no estate, nor zvas 
born toany, I have long considered of so me good lega- 
cies to bequeath you; and at last, with much care' 
as well as expence have provided each of you, (here 

* By these three sons, Peter, Martin, and Jack; Po- 
pery, the Church of England, and our Protestant Dis- 
senters, are designed. W. Wot ton. 

In the character of Peter, we see the Pope, seated on 
his pontifical throne, and adorned with his triple crown. 
In the picture of Martin, we view Luther, and the first 
reformers. And in the description of Jack, we behold 
John Calvin and his disciples. The author's arrows are 
chiefly directed against Peter and Jack. To Martin he 
shews all the indulgence that the laws of aliegorj will 
permit. Orrery. 

E 4 



85 A TALE OF A TUB. 

they are) a new coat** Now, you are to under 
stand, that these coats have two virtues contained in 
them. One is, that, with good wearing, they will 
last you fresh and sound as long as you live. The 
other is, that they will grow in the same 'proportion 
with your bodies, lengthening and widening of them- 
selves, so as to he always fit. Here, let me see them 
on you before I die. So, very well ; pray, children, 
wear them clean, and brush them often. Yqu will 
find in my zvillf (here it is) full instructions in every 
particular concerning the wearing andmanagement 
of your coats ; wherein you must be very exact, to 
avoid the penalties I have appointed for every trans- 
gression or neglect, upon z^hichyour future fortunes 
will entirely depend. I have also commanded in my 
will, that you should live together, in one house, like 
brethren and friends ; for then you will be sure 
tu thrive, and not otherwise. 

Here, the story says, this good father died and 
the three sons went altogether to seek their for- 
tunes. 

* By his coats, which he gave his sons, the gar- 
ment of the Israelites. W. Wotton. 

An error (with submission) of the learned commentator ; 
or by the coats are meant the doctrine and faith of Chris- 
tianity, by the wisdom of the divine founder, fitted to all 
times, places, and circumstances. Lambin. 

t The New Testament. 



A TALE OF A TUB. 81 

I shall not trouble you with recounting what 
adventures they met with for the first seven 
years, any farther than by taking notice, that 
they carefully observed their father's will, and 
kept their coats in very good order; that they 
travelled through several countries, encountered 
a reasonable quantity of giants, and slew certain 
dragons. 

Being now arrived at the proper age for pro- 
ducing themselves, they came up to town, and 
fell in love with the ladies; but especially three 
who about that time were in chief reputation -; 
the Duchess d'Argent, Madame de Grands 
Titres, and the Countess d' Orgueil # . On their 
first appearance, our three adventurers met with 
a very bad reception ; and soon with great saga^ 
city guessing out the reason, they quickly began 
to improve in the good qualities of the town. 
They writ, and rallied, and rhymed, and sung, 
and said, and said nothing; they drank, and 
fought, and whored, and slept, and swore, and 
took snuff; they went to new plays on the first 
night, haunted the chocolate-houses, beat the 

* Their mistresses are, the Duchess d'xVrgent, Made- 
moiselle de Grands Titres, and the Countess d'Orgueih 
i. e. covetousness, ambition, and pride; which were the 
three great vices that the antient fathers inveighed a- 
gainst, as the first corruptions of Christianity. 

W. Wotton. 
E 5 



82 A TALE OF A TUB. 

- ■" " • ■ ... -a ; 

watch, lay on bulks, and got claps ; they bilked 
hackney-coachmen, ran in debt with shopkeep- 
ers, and lay with their wives; they killed bailiffs, 
kicked fiddlers down stairs, eat at Locket's, loit- 
ered at Will's ; they talked of the drawing room, 
and never came there ; dined with lords they 
never saw; whispered a duchess, and spoke never 
a word ; exposed the scrawls of their laundress for 
billetdoux of quality; came ever just from court, 
and were never seen in it ; attended the levee sub 
dio , got a list of peers by heart in one company, 
and with great familiarity retailed them in ano- 
ther. Above all, they constantly attended those 
committees of senators, who are silent in the 
house, and loud in the coffee-house ; where they 
nightly adjourn to chew the cud of politics; and 
are encompassed with a ring of disciples, who lie 
in wait to catch up their droppings. The three 
brothers had acquired forty other qualifications 
of the like stamp, too tedious to recount ; and* 
by consequence, were justly reckoned the most 
accomplished persons in the town. But all would 
not suffice, and the ladies aforesaid continued 
still inflexible. To clear up which difficulty, I 
must, with the reader's good leave and patience, 
have recourse to some points of weight, which the 
authors of that age have not sufficiently illus- 
trated. 



A TALE OF A TUB, 83 

For about this time it happened, a sect arose, 
whose tenets obtained and spread very far, espe- 
cially in the grand monde, and among every body 
of good fashion*. They worshipped a sort of 
idolf, who, as their doctrine delivered, did daily 
create men by a kind of manufactory operation. 
This idol they placed in the highest parts of the 
house, on an altar erected about three foot He 
was shewn in the posture of a Persian Emperor, 
sitting on a superficies, with his legs interwoven 
under him. This god had a goose for his ensign; 
whence it is, that some learned men pretend to 
deduce his original from Jupiter Capitolinus. 
At his left hand, beneath the altar, hell seemed 
to open, and catch at the animals the idol was 
creating: to prevent which, certain of his priests 
hourly flung in pieces of the uninformed mass or 
subsiance, and sometimes whole limbs already en- 
livened; which that horrid gulph insatiably swal- 
lowed, terrible to behold. The goose was also 
held a subaltern divinity, or dens minorum gen-' 
tium ; before whose shrine was sacrificed that 
creature, whose hourly food is human gore, and 
who is in so great renown abroad for being 
the delight and favourite of the ^Egyptian Cer- 

* This is an occasional satire upon dress and fashion, 
in order to introduce what follows. 
f By this idol is meant a tailor. 
E 6 



84 A TALE OF A TUB. 

copithecus # . Millions of these animals were 
cruelly slaughtered every day, to appease the 
hunger of that consuming deity. The chief idol 
was also worshipped as the inventor of the yard 
and needle; whether as the god of seamen, or on 
account of certain other mystical attributes, hath 
not been sufficiently cleared. 

The worshippers of this deity had also a system 
of their belief, which seemed to turn upon the 
following fundamentals. They held the universe 
to be a large suit of cloaths, which invests every 
thing: That the earth is invested by the air; the 
air is invested by the stars; and the stars are in- 
vested by theprimum mobile. Look on this globe 
of earth, you will find it to be a very complete 
and fashionable dress. What is that which some 
call land, but a fine coat faced with green ? or 
the sea, but a waistcoat of water-tabby? Pro- 
ceed to the particular works of the creation, you 
will find how curious journeyman Nature hath 
been, to trim up the vegetable beaux : Observe 
how sparkish a periwig adorns the head of a beech, 
and what a fine doublet of white sattin is worn 
by the birch. To conclude from all, what is 

* The ^Egyptians worshipped a monkey; which ani- 
mal is very fond of eating lice, styled here creatures 
that feed on human gore. 



A TALE OF A TUB. 85 

man himself but a micro-coat # ; or rather a com- 
plete suit of cloaths, with all its trimmings ? As 
to his body, there can be no dispute. But exa- 
mine even the acquirements of his mind, you will 
find them allcontribute in their order towards fur- 
nishing out an exact dress. To instance no more ; 
is not religion a cloak ; honesty a pair of shoes, 
worn out in the dirt; self-love a surtout; vanity 
a shirt; and conscience a pair of breeches, which, 
though a cover for lewdness as well as nastiness, 
is easily slipt down for the service of both? 

These postulata being admitted, it will follow 
in due course of reasoning, that those beings, 
which the world calls improperly suits ofcloaths 9 
are in reality the most refined species of animals; 
or, to proceed higher, that they are rational 
creatures, or men. For is it not manifest, that 
they live, and move, and talk, and perform all 
other offices of human life ? Are not beauty and 
wit, and mein, and breeding, their inseparable 
properties ? In short, we see nothing but them, 
hear nothing but them. Is it not they who walk 

the streets, fill up parliament , coffee- , 

play , bawdy houses? It is true indeed, that 

these animals, which are vulgarly called suits of 
cloaths, or dresses, do, according to certain com- 

* Alluding to the word microcosm, or a little world, 
as man hath been called by philosophers. 



86 A TALE OF A TUB. 

positions, receive different appellations. If one 
of them be trimmed up with a gold chain, and a 
red gown, and a white rod, and a great horse, it 
is called a Lord Mayor ; if certain ermins and furs 
be placed in a certain position, we style them a 
Judge; and so, an apt conjunction of lawn and 
black sattin, we intitlea Bishop. 

Others of these professors, though agreeing in 
the main system, were yet more refined upon 
certain branches of it; and held, that man was 
an animal compounded of two dresses, the natural 
and the celestial suit ; which were the body and 
the soul; that the soul was the outward, and the 
body the inward cloathing ; that the latter was 
ex traduce, but the former of daily creation and 
eircumfusion. This last they proved by scripture ; 
because in them we live, and move, and have our 
being : as likewise by philosophy ; because they, 
are are all in all, and all in every part. Besides, 
said they, separate these two, and you will find 
the body to be only a senseless unsavoury carcase. 
By all which it is manifest, that the outward 
dress must needs be the soul. 

To this system of religion were tagged several 
subaltern doctrines # , which were entertained 

• The first part of the tale, is the history of Peter. 
Thereby Popery is exposed. Every body knows, the Pa- 
pists have made great additions to Christianity; that in- 



A TALE OF A TUB. 87 

with great vogue; as, particularly, the faculties 
of the mind were deduced by the learned among 
them in this manner. Embroidery was sheer wit ; 
goldfringe was agreeable conversation; gold lace was 
repartee; a huge long periwig was humour; and 
a coat full of powder was very good r allien/ : All 
which required abundance ofjinesseanddelicatesse 
to manage with advantage, as well as a strict ob- 
servance after times and fashions. 

I have, with much pains and reading, collected 
out of antient authors, this short summary of a 
body of philosophy and divinity • which seems to 
have been composed by a vein and race of think - 

deed is the great exception which the Church of England: 
makes against them: Accordingly, Peter begins his pranks 
with adding a shoulder-knot to his coat. W. Wot ton. 

The actions of Peter, are the actions of a man intoxica- 
ted with pride, power, rage, tyranny, and self-conceit. 
These passions are placed in the most ridiculous light: and 
the effects of them produce to us the tenets and doctrines 
of papal Rome, such as purgatory, penance, images, in- 
dulgences, auricular confession, transubstantiation, and 
those dreadful monsters the pontifical bulls, which, accor- 
ding to this ludicrous author, derived their original from 
the famous bulls of Colchis, described by Ovid. 

Terribiles vultus, prqfixaque cornua ferro ; 
Puhertumque solum pede pulsa vere bisulco ; 
Fumificisque locum mugitibus implevere* 

Met. L vii. V. 112. 



88 A TALE OF A TUB. 

ing, very different from any other systems, either 
ancient or modern. And it was not merely to en- 
tertain or satisfy the reader's curiosity, but ra- 
ther to give him light into several circumstances 
of the following story; that, knowing the state 
of dispositions and opinions in an age so remote, 
he may better comprehend those great events 
which were the issue of them. I advise therefore 
the courteous reader, to peruse, with a world of 
application, again and again, whatever I have 
written upon this matter. And leaving these 
broken ends, I carefully gather up the chief 
thread of my story, and proceed* 

These opinions therefore were so universal, as 
w r ell as the practices of them, among the refined 
part of court and town, that our three brother- 
adventurers, as their circumstances then stood, 
were strangely at a loss. For, on the one side, 
the three ladies they addressed themselves to, 
whom we have named already, were ever at the 
very top of the fashion, and abhorred all that were 
below it but the breadth of a hair. On the other 
side, their father's will was very precise; and it 
was the main precept in it, with the greatest pe- 
nalties annexed, not to add to, or diminish from 
their coats,, one thread, without a positive com" 
mand in the will. Now, the coats their father 
had left them, were, it is true, of very good 
cloth; and, besides, so neatly sown, you would 



A TALE OF A TUB. 89 

swear they were all of a piece; but at the same 
time very plain, and with little or no ornament*. 
And it happened, that, before they were a month 
in town, great shoulder-knots; came up f : Straight 
all the world wore shoulder-knots ; no approach- 
ing the ladies ruelles, without the quota of shoul- 
der-knots. That fellow, cries one, has no soul; 
zvhere is his shoulder-knot? Our three brethren 
soon discovered their want by sad experience, 
meeting in their walks with forty mortifications 
and indignities. If they went to the playhouse, 
the door-keeper shewed them into the twelve- 
penny gallery. If they called a boat, says a water- 
man, / am first sculler. If they stepped to the 
Rose to take a bottle, the drawer would cry, 
Friend, we sell no ale. If they went to visit a la- 

* His description of the cloth of which the coat was 
made, has a farther meaning than the words may seem to 
import: ; * The coats, their father had left them, were of 
* very good cloth; and, besides, so neatly sown, you 
" would swear they were all of a piece; but, at the same 
" time, very plain, with little or no ornament/' This is 
the distinguishing character of the Christian religion. 
Christiani religio absoluta ct simplex, was Ammianus Mar- 
cellinus'a description of it, who was himself a Heathen. 

W. Wotton. 
f By this is understood the first introducing of page- 
antry, and unnecessary ornaments in the church, such as 
were neither for convenience or edification; as a shoulder* 
knot, in which jthere is neither symmetry nor use. 



90 A TALE OF A TUB. 

dy, a footman met them at the door, with Pray 
send up your message. In this unhappy case they 
went immediately to consult their father's will ; 
read it over and over, but not a word of the 
shoulder-knot. What should they do? What 
temper should they find? Obedience was abso- 
lutely necessary, and yet shoulder-knots appeared 
extremely requisite. After much thought, one 
of the brothers, who happened to be more book- 
learned than the other two, said, he had found 
an expedient. It is true, said he, there is nothing 
here in this will, totidem verbis # , making mention 
of shoulder-knots: But I dare conjecture, we may 
find them inclusive, or totidem syllabis. This dis- 
tinction was immediately approved by all; and 
so they fell again to examine. But their evil star 
had so directed the matter, that the first syllable 
was not to be found in the whole writing. Up- 
on which disappointment, he who found the far- 
mer evasion, took heart, and said, Brothers, there 
isyet hope \for though we cannot find them totidem 
verbis, nor totidem syllabis, I dare engage we shall 

* When the Papists cannot find any thing which they 
want in scripture, they go to oral tradition. Thus Peter 
is introduced dissatisfied with the tedious way of looking 
for all the letters of any word, which he has occasion for 
in the will; when neither the constituent syllables, nor 
much less the whole word, were there in termini*. 

W. Wotton. 






A TALE OF A TUB. Q{ 



make them out tertio modo, or totidem Uteris. 
This discovery was also highly commended : Up- 
on which they fell once more to the scrutiny, 
and picked out S, H, O, U, L, D, E, R, when 
the same planet, enemy to their repose, had won- 
derfully contrived that a K was not to be found. 
Here was a weighty difficulty! But the distin- 
guishing brother, for whom we shall hereafter 
find a name, now his hand was in, proved, by a 
very good argument, that K was a modern illegi- 
timate letter, unknown to the learned ages, nor 
any where to be found in ancient manuscripts. 
" 'Tis true" (said he) " the word Calender hath 
11 in Q. V. C. # been sometimes written with a 
" K, but erroneously; for in the best copies it 
" has been ever spelt with a C. And, by conse- 
" quence, it was a gross mistake in our language 
" to spell knot with a K ; but that from hence- 
" forward he would take care it should be writ- 
" ten with a C" Upon this all farther difficulty 
vanished; shoulder-knots were made clearly out to 
he jure paterno ; and our three gentlemen swag- 
gered with as large and as flaunting ones as the 
best. 

But as human happiness is of a very short du- 
ration, so in those days were human fashions, 

* Quibusdam veteribus codicibus : Some antient manu- 
scripts. 



§£ A TALE OF A TUB. 

upon which it entirely depends. Shoulder-knots 
had their time; and we must now imagine them 
in their decline : For a certain lord came just from 
Paris, with fifty yards of gold-lace upon his coat, 
exactly trimmed after the court-fashion of that 
month. In two days, all mankind appeared closed 
up in bars of gold-lace*. Whoever durst peep 
abroad without his complement of gold-lace, was 

as scandalous as a , and as ill received among 

the women. What should our three knights do 
in this momentous affair? They had sufficiently 
strained a point already, in the affair of shoulder- 
knots. Upon recourse to the will, nothing ap- 
peared there but altum silentium. That of the 
shoulder-knots was a loose, flying, circumstantial 
point; but this of gold-lace seemed too consider- 
able an alteration without better warrant: It did 
aliquo modo essentia adharere, and therefore re- 
quired a positive precept. But about this time it 
fell out, that the learned brother aforesaid had 
read Aristotelis dialectics; and especially that won- 
derful piece, de inlerpretatione, which has the fa- 
culty of teaching its readers to fin d out a meaning 
in every thing but itself; like commentators on 
the Revelations, who proceed prophets without 

* I cannot tell, whether the author means any new in- 
noration by this word, or whether it be only to introduce 
the new methods of forcing and perverting scripture. 



A TALE OF A TUB. Q3 

understanding a syllable of the text. Brothers, 
said he, you are to be informed, that of wills duo 
sunt genera, nuncupatory # andscriptory. Thatin 
the script ory will here before us, there is no precept 
or mention about gold-lace, conceditur; but, si 
idem affirmetur de nuncupatoria, negatur. For 
brothers, if you remember, we heard a fellow say, 
when we were boys, that he heard my father's man 
lay, that he heard my father say, that he would ad- 
vise his sons to get gold-lace on their coats, as soon 
as ever they could procure money to buy it. ByG — , 
that is very true, cries the other ; / remember it 
perfectly well, said the third. And so, without 
more ado, they got the largest gold-lace in the 
parish, and walked about as fnie as lords. 

A while after, there came up, all in fashion, a 
pretty sort of fame-coloured sattin f for linings ; 

* By this is meant tradition, allowed to have equal 
authority with the scripture, or rather greater. 

f This is purgatory, whereof he speaks more particular- 
ly hereafter, but here, only to shew how scripture was 
perverted to prove it; which was done, by giving e- 
qual authority, with the canon, to Apocrypha, called 
here a codocil annexed. 

It is likely the author, in every one of these changes in 
the brothers dresses, refers to some particular error in the 
church of Rome; though it is not easy, I think, to apply 
ihera all. But by this of flame-coloured sattin, is manifest- 
ly intended purgatory, by gold- lace may perhaps beun- 



94 A TALE OF A TUB. 

and the mercer brought a pattern of it immediate- 
ly to our three gentlemen : Ari please your wor- 
ships, said he, my Lord C — > and Sir J. W. had 
linings out of this very piece last night. It takes 
wonderfully ; and I shall not have a remnant left, 
enough to make my wife a pin-cushion, by to-morrozv 
morning at ten a clock. Upon this they fell again 
to rummage the will, because the present case also 
required a positive precept, the lining being held 
by orthodox writers to be of the essence of the 
coat. After long search, they could fix upon 
nothing to the matter in hand, except a short 
advice of their father in the will, to take care of 
fire, and put out their candles before they went to 
sleep *. This, though a good deal for the pur- 
pose, and helping very far towards self-conviction, 
yet not seeming wholly of force to establish a 
command ; (being resolved to avoid farther scru- 
ple, as well as future occasion for scandal), says 
he that was the scholar, 1 remember to have read 
in wills, of a codicil annexed \ which is indeed apart 

derstood, the lofty ornaments and plate in the churches. 
The shoulder-knots and silver fringe are not so obvious, at 
least to me. But the indian figures of men, women, and 
children, plainly relate to the pictures in the Ilomish 
churches, of God like an old man, of the virgin Mary, 
and our Saviour as a child. 

* That is, to take care of hell; and in order to do 
that, to subdue aad extinguish their lusts. 



A TALE OF A TUB. 95 

of the will; and zvhatit contains hath equal autho- 
rity zvith the rest. Nozv, I have been considering 
of this same zvill here before us; and I cannot reckon 
it to be eompletefor want of such a codicil. I will 
therefore fasten one in its proper place very dex- 
trously. I have had it by me some time. It was 
written by a dog-keeper of my grandfather's* ; and 
talks a great deal, as good luck would have it, of 
this very fame-coloured sattin. The project was 
immediately approved by the other two; an old 
parchment scroll was tagged on according to 
art, in the form of a codicil annexed, and the sat- 
tin bought and worn. 

Next winter, a player, hired for the purpose 
by the corporation of fringe-makers, acted his 
part in a new comedy, all covered with silver- 
fringe^; and, according to the laudable custom, 
gave rise to that fashion. Upon which, the 
brothers consulting their father's will, to their 
great astonishment found these words : Item, I 
charge and command my $aid three sons, to wear no 
sort q/silver-fringe upon or about their said lcoats,fyc» 
with a penalty, in case of disobedience, too long 
here to insert. However, after some pause, the 
brother so often mentioned for his erudition,, 

* I believe this refers to that part of the Apocrypha 
where mention is made of 1 obit and his dog, 

f This is certainly the farther introducing the pomps 
of habit and ornament. 



96 A TALE OF A TUB. 

who was well skilled in criticisms, had found in a 
certain author, which he said shouM be nameless, 
that the same word, which in the will is called 
fringe, does also signify a broom-stick* ; and doubt- 
less ought to have the same interpretation in this 
paragraph. This another of the brothers dislik- 
ed, because of that epithet silver ; which could 
not, he humbly conceived, in propriety of speech, 
be reasonably applied to a broom-stick. But it was 
replied upon him, that this epithet was under- 
stood mamythological and allegorical sense. How- 
ever, he objected again, why their father should 
forbid them to wear a broom-stick on their coats ; 
a caution that seemed unnatural and imperti- 
nent. Upon which he was taken up short, as 
one that spoke irreverently of a mystery ; which 
doubtless was very useful and significant, but 
ought not to be over-curiously pried into, or nice- 
ly reasoned upon. And, in short, their father's 
authority being now considerably sunk, this ex- 
pedient was allowed toserve as a lawful dispensa- 
tion for wearing their full proportion of silver- 
fringe. 

A while after, was revived an old fashion, long 
antiquated, of embroidery with Indian figures of 

* The next subject of our author's wit, is the glosses 
and interpretations of scripture, very many absurd ones 
of which are allowed in the most authentic books of 
the church of Rome. W. Wotton. 



A TALE OF A TUB. 97 

men, women, and children # . Here they re- 
membered but too well, how their father had al- 
ways abhorred this fashion ; that he made several 
paragraphs on purpose, importing his utter de- 
testation of it, and bestowing his everlasting curse 
to his sons, whenever they should wear it. For 
all this, in a few days, they appeared higher in 
the fashion than any body else in the town. But 
they solved the matter, by saying that these 
figures were not at all the same with those that 
were formerly worn, and were meant in the will. 
Besides, they did not wear them in the sense as 
forbidden by their father; but as they were a 
commendable custom, and of great use to the 
public. That these rigorous clauses in the will 
did therefore require some allozvance, and a fa- 
vourable interpretation, and ought to be under- 
stood cum grano salis. 

But fashions perpetually altering in that age, 
the scholastic brother grew weary of searching 
farther evasions, and sclving everlasting contra- 
dictions. Resolved therefore, at all hazards, to 
comply with the modes of the werld, they con- 
certed matters together, and agreed unanimously, 

♦ The images of saints, the blessed virgin, and our 
Saviour an infant. 

Ibid. Images in the church of Rome, give him but 
too fair a handle, The brothers remembered, §c. The 
allegory, here is direct. W. Wotton. 



98 A TALE OF A TUB. 

to lock up their father's will in a strong box *, 
brought out of Greece or Italy, I have forgotten 
which; and trouble themselves no farther to ex- 
amine it, but only refer to its authority whenever 
they thought fit. In consequence whereof, a 
while after, it grew a general mode to wear an in- 
finite number of points, most of them tagged with 
silver. Upon which, the scholar pronounced ex 
catheclraf, thi\tpoi?its were absolutely jure paterno, 
as they might very well remember. It is true, 
indeed, the fashion prescribed somewhat more 
than were directly named in the will : However, 
that they, as heirs-general of their father, had 
power to make and add certain clauses for public 
emolument, though notdeducible, totidem verbis, 
from the letter of the will ; or else rnulta absurda 

* The papists formerly forbade the people the use of 
scripture in a vulgar tongue: Peter therefore locks up his 
fathers will in a strong box, brought out of Greece or It a- 
lyv These countries are named, because the New Testa- 
ment is written in Greek; and the vulgar Latin, which is 
the authentic edition of the llible in the church of Rome, 
is the language of old Italy. W. Wotton. 

f The Popes, in their decretals and bulls, have given 
their sanction to very many gainful doctrines, which are 
now received in the chucrh of Rome, that are ;not men- 
tioned \ti scripture, and are unknown to the primitive 
church. Peter accordingly pronounces ex cathedra, that 
points tagged with silver were absolutely jure paterno; and 
so they wore them in great numbers. W. Wotton. 



A TALE OF A TUB. 99 

sequerentur. This was understood for canonical, 
and therefore, on the following Sunday, they 
came to church all covered with points. 

The learned brother, so often mentioned, was 
reckoned the best scholar, in all that, or the next 
street to it ; insomuch, as having run something 
behind-hand in the world, he obtained the favour 
of a certain lord*, to receive him into his hou^e, 
and to teach his children. A while after, the 
lord died ; and he, by long practice of his father's 
will, found the way of contriving a deed of convey* 
ance of that house to himself and his heirs. 
Upon which he took possession, turned the young 
'squires out, and received his brothers in their 
stead f. 

* This was Constantine the Great, from whom the 
Popes pretend a donation of St Peter's patrimony, which 
they have been never able to produce. 

t Ibid. The bishops of Rome enjoyed their privileges in 
Rome, at first by the favour of the emperors, whom at 
last they shut out of their own capital city, and then forg- 
ed a ^donation from Constantine the Great, the better to 
justify what they did. In imitation of this, Peter, having 
run something behind-hand in the world, obtained leave of # 
certain lord, fyc, W* Wotton. 



F 2 



100 A TALE OF A TUB. 



SECT. III. 



A DIGRESSION CONCERNING CRITICS*. 






ALTHOUGH I have been hitherto as cautious 
as I could, upon all occasions, most nicely to 
follow the rules and methods of writing laid 
down by the example of our illustrious mo- 
derns; yet has the unhappy shortness of my me- 
mory led me into an error, from which I must 
extricate myself, before I can decently pursue my 
principal subject* I confess with shame, it was 
an unpardonable omission to proceed so far as I 
have already done, before I had performed the 
due discourses, expostulatory, supplicatory, or 
deprecatory, with my good lords the critics. To- 
wards some atonement for this grievous neglect, 
I do here make humbly bold to present them 

* The several digressions are written in ridicule of bad 
critics, dull commentators, and the whole fraternity of 
Grub-street philosophers. Orrery. 



i 



A DIGRESSION CONCERNING CRITICS. 101 

with a short account of themselves and their art, 
by looking into the original and pedigree of the 
word as it is generally understood among us, and 
very briefly considering the ancient and present 
state thereof. 

By the word critic, at this day so frequent in 
all conversations, there have sometimes been di- 
stinguished three very different species of mortal 
men, according as I have read in ancient books and 
pamphlets. For, first, by this term was under- 
stood such persons as invented or drew up rules 
for themselves and the world; by observing which, 
a careful reader might be able to pronounce upon 
the productions of the learned, from his taste to 
a true relish of the sublime and the admirable, and 
divide every beaut}' of matter or of style from the 
corruption that apes it : in their common peru- 
sal of books, singling out the errors and defects, 
the nauseous, the fulsome, the dull, and the im- 
pertinent, with the caution of a man that walks 
through Edinburgh streets in a morning : who is 
indeed as careful as he can, to watch diligent- 
ly, and spy out the filth in his way ; not that he 
is curious to observe the colour and complexion 
of the ordure, or take its dimensions, much less 
to be paddling in, or tasting ; but only with a de- 
sign to come out as cleanly as he may. These 
men seem, though very erroneously, to have un- 
derstood the appellation of critic in a literal sense ; 

f 3 



102 A TALE OF A TUB. 

that one principal part of his office, was to praise 
and acquit ; and that a critic, who sets up to read 
only for an occasion of censure and reproof, is a 
creature as barbarous as a judge, who should 
take up a resolution to hang all men that came 
before him upon a trial. 

Again, by the word critic have been meant the 
restorers of ancient learning, from the worms, 
and graves, and dust of manuscripts. 

Now, the races of those two have been for 
some ages utterly extinct; and besides, to dis- 
course any farther of them, would not be at all 
to my purpose. 

The third, and noblest sort, is that of the 
TRUE CRITIC, whose original is the most an- 
cient of all. Every true critic is a hero born, de- 
scending in a direct line from a celestial stem by 
Momus and Hybris, who begat Zoilus, who be- 
gat Tigellius, who begat Etcetera the elder, who 
begat Bentley and Rymer, and Wotton, and 
Perrault, and Dennis, who begat Etcetera the 
younger 

And these are the critics from whom the com- 
mon-wealth of learning has in all ages received 
such immense benefits, that the gratitude of 
their admirers placed their origin in heaven, a- 
mong those of Hercules, Theseus, Perseus, and 
other great deservers of mankind. But heroic 
virtue itself hath not been exempt from the oblo- 



A DIGRESSION CONCERNING CRITICS. 103 

quy of evil tongues. For it hatli been objected, 
that those ancient heroes, famous for their com- 
bating so many giants, and dragons, and robbers, 
were in their own persons a greater nuisance to 
mankind, than any of those monsters they sub- 
dued; and therefore, to render their obligations 
more complete, when all other vermin were de- 
stroyed, should in conscience have concluded 
with the same justice upon themselves ; as Her- 
cules most generously did; and hath, upon that 
score, procured to himself more temples and vo- 
taries, than the best of his fellows. For these 
reasons, I suppose, it is, why some have con- 
ceived, it would be very expedient for the pub- 
lic good of learning, that every true critic, as 
soon as he had finished his task assigned, should 
immediately deliver himself up to ratsbane, or 
hemp, or from some convenient attitude ; and 
that no man's pretensions to so illustrious a cha- 
racter, should by any means be received, before 
that operation were performed. 

Now, from this heavenly descent of criticism^ 
and the close analogy it bears to heroic virtue, it 
is easy to assign the proper employment of a true 
ancient genuine critic ; which is, to travel through 
this vast world of writings ; to pursue and hunt 
those monstrous faults bred within them ; to drag 
out the lurking errors, like Cacus from his den ; 
to multiply them like Hydra's heads ; and rake 

f 4 



104 A TALE OF A TUB. 

tbem together like Augeas's dung : or else drive 
away a sort of dangerous fowl , who have a per- 
verse inclination to plunder the best branches of 
the treeofknozoledge, like those Stymphalian birds 
that eat up the fruit. 

These reasonings will furnish us with an ade- 
quate definition of a true critic ; that he is a dis- 
coverer and collector of writers faults ; which may 
be farther put beyond dispute, by the following 
demonstration : That whoever will examine the 
writings in all kinds, wherewith this antient sect 
has honoured the world, shall immediately find, 
from the whole thread and tenor of them, that 
the ideas of the authors have been altogether 
conversant and taken up with the faults, and ble- 
mishes, and oversights, and mistakes of other 
writers ; and, let the subject treated on be what- 
ever it will, their imaginations are so entirely pos- 
sessed, and replete with the defects of other pens, 
that the very quintessence of what is bad, does of 
necessity distill into their own ; by which means, 
the whole appears to be nothing else but an ab- 
stract of the criticisms they themselves have made. 

Having thus briefly considered the original and 
office of a critic, as the word is understood in its 
most noble and universal acceptation; I proceed 
to refute the objections of those who argue from 
the silence and pretermission of authors; by 
which they pretend to prove, that the very art of 






A DIGRESSION CONCERNING CRITICS. 105 

criticism, as now exercised, and by me explained, 
is wholly modern, and consequently, that the 
critics of Great Britain and France, have no title 
to an original so ancient and illustrious as I have 
deduced. Now, if I can clearly make out, on 
the contrary, that the most ancient writers have 
particularly described both the person and the 
office of a true- critic, agreeable to the definition 
laid down by me; their grand objection, from 
the silence of authors, will fall to the ground. 

I confess to have for a long time borne a part 
in this general error ; from which I should never 
have acquitted myself, but through the assistance 
of our noble modems: whose most edifying vo- 
lumes I turn indefatigably over night and day, 
for the improvement of my mind, and the good 
of my country. Th^se have with unwearied 
pains made many useful searches into the weak 
sides of the ancients, and given a comprehensive 
list of them. Besides, they have proved beyond 
contradiction, that the very finest things, deliver- 
ed of old, have been long since invented, and 
brought to light by much later pens* ; and that 
the noblest discoveries, those ancients ever made 
of art and nature, have all been produced by the 
transcending genius of the present age. Which 
clearly shews, how little merit those ancients caa 



* See Wotton of ancient and modern learning., 
£ 5 



106 A TALE OF A TUB. 

ST . - , . - ' ,. ,, , : . • ... , , - ; '„ -:.z= s 

justly pretend to; and takes off that blind admi" 
ration paid them by men in a corner, who have 
the unhappiness of conversing too little with pre- 
sent things. Reflecting maturely upon all this, and 
taking in the whole compass of human nature, I 
easily concluded, that these ancients, highly sen- 
sible of their many imperfections, must needs 
have endeavoured, from some passages in their 
works, to obviate, soften, or divert the censori- 
ous reader, by satire or panegyric? upon the true 
critics, in imitation of their masters, the moderns. 
Now, in the common places of both these*, I was 
plentifully instructed, by a long course of useful 
study in prefaces and prologues ; and therefore im- 
mediately resolved to try what I could discover 
of either, by a diligent perusal of the most anci- 
ent writers, and especially those who treated of 
the earliest times. Here I found, to my great 
surprise, that although they ail entered, upon 
occasion, into particular descriptions of the true 
critic, according as they were governed by their 
fears or their hopes ; yet whatever they touehecj. 
of that kind, was with abundance of caution, ad- 
venturing no farther than mythology and hierogly- 
phic. This, I suppose, gave ground to superficial 
readers, for urging the silence of authors against 
the antiquity of the true critic; though the types 

* Satire and panegyric upon critics. 



A DIGRESSION CONCERNING CRITICS. 107 

are so apposite, and the applications so necessary 
and natural, that it is not easy to conceive, how 
any reader of a modern eye and taste could over- 
look them. I shall venture, from a great num- 
ber to produce a few, which, I am very confi- 
dent, will put this question beyond dispute. 

It well deserves considering, that these ancient 
writers, in treating enigmatically upon the sub- 
ject, have generally fixed upon the very same hie* 
roglyph ; varying only the story, according to 
their affections, or their wit. For, first, Pausa- 
nias is of opinion, that the perfection of writing 
correct, was entirely owing to the institution of 
critics. And that he can possibly mean no other 
than the true critic, is, I think, manifest enough 
from the following description. He says*, 
" They were a race of men who delighted to nib- 
ble at the superfluities and excrescences of 
books ; which the learned at length observing, 
took warning, of their own accord, to lop the 
luxuriant, the rotten, the dead, the sapless, 
and the overgrown branches, from their 
works." But now, ail this he cunningly shades 
under the following allegory: u That the Naup- 
lians in Argos learned the art of pruning their vi- 
nes, by observing, that when an ASS' had brow- 
sed upon one of them, it thrived the better, and 
bore fairer fruit." But Herodotus f, holding the 

* Lib. * t Lib. 4. 

ip 6 



?08 A TALE OF A TUB. 



very same hieroglyph, speaks much plainer, and 
almost in terminis. He hath been so bold as to 
tax the true critics of ignorance and malice, tell- 
ing us openly, for I think nothing can be plain- 
er, that " in the western part of Libya, there 
were ASSES with horns." Upon which rela- 
tion Ctesias # yet refines, mentioning the very 
same animal about India: adding, " that 
whereas all other Asses wanted a gall, these 
horned ones were so redundant in that part, that 
their flesh was not to be eaten, because of its ex- 
treme bitterness." 

Now, the reason why those ancient writers 
treated this subject only by types and figures, was, 
because they durst not make open attacks against 
a party so potent and terrible, as the critics of 
those ages were; whose very voice was so dread- 
ful, that a legion of authors would tremble, and 
drop their pens at the sound: for so Herodotus 
tells us expressly in another place f, how u a vast 
army of Scythians was put to flight in a panic ter- 
ror by the braying of an Ass." From hence it is 
conjectured by certain profound philologers, that 
the great awe and reverence paid to a true critic 
by the writers of Britain, have been derived to 
us from those our Scythian ancestors. In short* 

* Yide excerpta ex eo apud Photiuro. 
i Lib. 4. 



A DIGRESSION CONCERNING CRITICS. 109 

this dread was so universal, that, in process of 
time, those authors who had a mind to publish 
their sentiments more freely, in describing the 
true critics of their several ages, were forced to 
leave off the use of the former hieroglyph, as too 
nearly approaching the prototype ; and invented 
other terms instead thereof, that were more cau- 
tious and mystical. So Diodorus # , speaking to 
the same purpose, ventures no farther than to say, 
that, " in the mountains of Helicon, there grows 
a certain weed, which bears a flower of so 
damned a scent, as to poison those who offer to 
smell it." Lucretius gives exactly the same re- 
lation : 

Est etiam in raagnis H-eliconis montibus arbos, 
Floris odore hominem retro consueta necare.f 

Lib. 6\ 
But Ctesias, whom we lately quoted, hath been 
a great deal bolder* He had been used with 
much severity by the true critics of his own age> 
and therefore could not forbear to leave behind 
him, at least, one deep mark of his vengeance 
against the whole tribe. His meaning is so-nea? 
the surface, that I wonder how it possibly came 
to be overlooked by those who deny the aatiqui- 

* Lib, 

f Near Helicon, and round the learned hill, 
Grow trees whose blossoms with their odour kill* 



110 A TALE OF A TUB. 

ty of the true critics. For, pretending to make a 
description of many strange animals about India, 
he hath set down these remarkable words. " A 
mongst the rest/' says he, " there is a serpent 
that wants teeth, and consequently cannot bite; 
but if its vomit, to which it is much addicted, hap- 
pens to fall upon any thing, a certain rottenness or 
corruption ensues. These serpents are generally 
found among the mountains where jewels grow, 
and they frequently emit a poisonous juice; 
whereof whoever drinks, that person's brains fly 
out of his nostrils." 

There was also among the ancients, a sort of 
critics, not distinguished in specie from the former, 
but in growth or degree, who seem to have been 
only the tyro's ov junior scholars ; yet, because of 
their differing employments, they are frequently 
mentioned as a sect by themselves. The usual 
exercise of these younger students was, to attend 
constantly at theatres, and learn to spy out the 
worst parts ofthe play, whereof they were obliged 
carefully to take note, and render a rational ac- 
count to their tutors. Fleshed at these smaller 
sports, like young wolves, they grew up in time 
to be nimble and strong enough for hunting 
down large game. For it hath been observed, 
both among ancients and moderns, that a true cri- 
tic hath one quality in common with a whore and 
an alderman, never to change his title or his n*w 



A DIGRESSION CONCERNING CRITICS. Ill 

ture ; that a grey critic has been certainly a, green 
one, the perfections and acquirements of his age 
being only the improved talents of his youth; 
like hemp, which some naturalists inform us is bad 
for suffocations, though taken but in the seed. I 
esteem the invention, or at least the refinement of 
prologues, to have been owing to these younger 
proficients, of whom Terence makes frequent 
and honourable mention, under the name of 
ma/cvoli. 

Now, it is certain the institution of the true 
critics, was of absolute necessity to the common- 
wealth of learning. For all human actions seem 
to be divided, like Themistocles and his com- 
pany : One man c&njidd/e* and another can make 
a small town a great city ; and he that cannot do 
either one or the other, deserves to be kicked out 
of the creation. The avoiding of which penalty, 
has doubtless given the first birth to the nation of 
critics; and withal, an occasion for their secret 
detractors to report, that a true critic is a sort of 
mechanic, set up with a stock and tools for his 
tradeataslittleexpeneeasataj//or ; and that there 
is much analogy between the utensils and abilities 
of both: that the taylor's hell is the type of a 
critic's common place-book, and his wit and learn- 
ing held forth by the goose-, that it requires at 
least as many of these to the making up of one 
scholar, as of the others to the composition of a 



} 12 A TALE OF A TUB. 

man; 'hat the valour of both is equal, and their 
weapons near of a size. Much may be said in an- 
swer to those invidious reflections : and I can 
positively affim the first to be a fslsehood: For, 
on the contrary, nothing is more certain, than 
that it requires greater layings out to be free of 
the critics company, than of any other you can 
name. For, as to be a true beggar, it will cost the 
richest candidate every groat he is worth ; so, 
before one can commence a true critic, it will cost 
a man all the good qualities of his mind ; which 
perhaps for a less purchase would be thought but 
an indifferent bargain. 

Having thus amply proved the antiquity of 
criticism, and described the primitive state of it; 
I shall now examine the present condition of this 
empire, and shew how well it agrees with its an*- 
cient self. A certain author, whose works have 
many ages since been entirely lost, does, in his 
fifth book, and eighth chapter, say- of critics, that 
il their writings are the mirrors of learning # ." 
This I understand in a literal sense ; and suppose 
our author must mean, that whosoever designs to 
be aperfect writer, must inspect into the books of 
critics^ and correct his invention there, as in a 
mirror. Now, whoever considers, that the mirrors. 

* A quotation after the manner of a great author. Vida 
Bentle/s dissertation, &c. 



A DIGRESSION CONCERNING CRITICS. ] IS 

of the ancients were made of brass, and sine mer- 
curio, may presently apply the two principal qua- 
lifications of a true modern critic ; and conse- 
quently must needs conclude, that these have al- 
ways been, and must be for ever the same. For 
brass is an emblem of duration, and, when it is 
skilfully burnished, will cast reflections from its 
own superficies, without any assistance of mercury 
from behind. All the other talents of a critic 
will not require a particular mention, being in- 
cluded, or easily reducible to these. However, I 
shall conclude with three maxims, which may 
serve both as characteristics to distinguish a true 
modern critic from a pretender, and will be also of 
admirable use to those worthy spirits who engage 
in so useful and honourable an art. 

The first is, That criticism, contrary to all o- 
ther faculties of the intellect, is ever held the 
truest and best, when it is the very first result of 
the critics mind : as fowlers reckon the first aim 
for the surest, and seldom fail of missing the 
mark, if they stay for a second. 

Secondly, The true critics are known by their 
talent of swarming about the noblest writers, to 
which they are carried merely by instinct, as a rat 
to the best cheese, or a wasp to the fairest fruit. 
So when the king is on horseback, he is sure to 
be the dirtiest person of the company ; and they 
that make their court best, are such as bespatter 
him most. 



114 A TALE OF A TUB. 

Lastly, A true critic in the perusal of a book, is 
like a dog at a feast, whose thoughts and stomach 
arc wholly set upon what the guests fling away : 
and consequently is apt to snarl most when there 
are the fewest bones. 

Thus much, I think, is sufficient to serve by 
way of address to my patrons, the true modern; 
critics ; and may very well atone for my past si- 
lence, as well as that which I am like to observe 
for the future. I hope I have deserved so well 
of their whole body, as to meet with generous and 
tender usage from their hands. Supported by 
which expectation, I go on boldly to pursue those 
adventures already so happily begun. 



SECT. IV. 
A TALE OF A TUB, 



I have now with much pains and study con- 
ducted the reader to a period, where he must 
expect to hear of great revolutions. For no 
sooner had our learned brother, so often mention- 
ed, got a warm house of his own over his head, 



I 



A TALE OF A TUB. 115 

than he began to look big, and take mightily up- 
on him ; insomuch that., unless the gentle reader, 
out of his great candour, will please a little to ex- 
alt his idea, I am afraid he will henceforth hardly 
know the Aero of the play, when he happens to 
meet him ; his part, his dress, and his mien being 
so much altered. 

He told his brothers, he would have them to 
know that he was their elder, and consequently 
his father's sole heir ; nay, a while after he would 
not allow them to call him brother, but Mr. 
PETER ; and then he must be styled Father 
PETER, and sometimes My Lord PETER. To 
support this grandeur, which he soon began to 
consider could not be maintained without a better 
fonde than what he was born to ; after much 
thought, he cast about at last to turn projector and 
virtuoso ; wherein he so well succeeded, that ma- 
ny famous discoveries, projects, and machines, 
which bear great vogue and practice at present in 
the world, are owing entirely to Lord PETER's 
invention. I will deduce the best account I have 
been able to collect, of the chief amongst them ; 
without considering much the order they came 
out in ; because, I think, authors are not well a- 
greed as' to that point. 

I hope, when this treatise of mine shall be 
translated into foreign languages, (as I may with- 
out vanity affirm, that the labour of collectings 



I 



I 16 A TALE OF A TUB. 

the faithfulness in recounting, and the great use- 
fulness of the matter to the public, will amply de- 
serve that justice), that the worthy members of 
the several academies abroad, especially those of 
France and Italy, will favourably accept these 
humble offers for the advancement of universal 
knowledge. I do also advertise the most reve- 
rend fathers the eastern missionaries, that I have, 
purely for their sakes, made use of such words 
and phrases as will best admit an easy turn into 
any of the oriental languages, especially the Chi- 
nese. And so I proceed, with great content of 
mind, upon reflecting how much emolument this 
whole globe of the earth is like to reap by my 
labours. 

The first undertaking of Lord Peter was, ta 
purchase a large continent # , lately said to have 
been discovered in Terra Australis Incognita. 
This tract of land he bought at a very great pen- 
nyworth from the discoverers themselves, (though 
some pretended to doubt whether they had ever 
been there), and then retailed it into several can- 
tons, to certain dealers, who carried over colonies, 
but were all shipwrecked in the voyage. Upon 
which Lord Peter sold the said continent to other 
customers again, and again, and again, and again, 
with the same success. 

The second project I shall mention, was his 

• That is purgatory,, 



A TALE OF A TUB. 117 

sovereign remedy for the worms*, especially those 
in the spleen. The patient was to eat nothing af- 
ter supper for three nightsf. As soon as he 
went to bed, he was carefully to lie on one side; 
and when he grew weary, to turn upon the other. 
He must also duly confine his two eyes to the 
same object ; and by no means break wind at both 
ends together, without manifest occasion. These 
prescriptions diligently observed, the worms 
would void insensibly by perspiration ascending 
through the brain. 

A third invention was the erecting of a whis- 
pering office^, for the public good and ease of all 
such as are hypochondriacal, or troubled with 
the cholic ; as likewise of all eves-droppers, phy- 
sicians, midwives, small politicians, friends fall- 
en out, repeating poets, lovers happy or in des- 
pair, bawds, privy counsellors, pages, parasites, 

* Penance and absolution are played upon under the 
notion of a sovereign remedy for the worms, especially in 
the spleen: which, by observing Peter's prescription, 
would void insensibly by perspiration, ascending through 
the brain, &c. W* Wot ton, 

f Here the author ridicules the penances of the church 
of Rome ; which may be made as easy to the sinner as 
he pleases, provided he will pay for them accordingly. 

j By his whispering office, for the relief of eves-drop- 
pers, physicians, bawds, and privy counsellors, he ridicu- 
les auricular confession ; and the priest, who takes it, is 
described by the ass's head. W. Wotton. 



118 A TALE OP A TUB. s 

and buffoons ; in short, of all such as are in dan- 
ger of bursting with too much wind. An ass's 
head was placed so conveniently, that the party 
affected might easily with his mouth accost ei- 
ther of the animal's ears; to which he was to ap- 
ply close for a certain space, and by a fugitive 
faculty peculiar to the ears of that animal, re- 
ceive immediate benefit, either by eructation, or 
expiration, or evomition. 

Another very beneficial project of Lord Pe- 
ter's was an office of insurance* for tobacco-pipes, 
martyrs of the modern zeal; volumes of poetry, 

shadows, — and rivers; That these, nor 

any of these, shall receive damage by fire. From 
whence our friendly societies may plainly find 
themselves to be only transcribers from this ori- 
ginal ; though the one and the other have been 
of great benefit to the undertakers, as well as of 
equal to the public. 

Lord Peter was also held the original author 
of puppets and raree-shows^ ; the great usefulness 
whereof being so generally known, I shall not 
enlarge farther upon this particular. 

But another discovery, for which he was much 

* This I take to be the office of indulgences, the grosi 
abuse whereof first gave occasion for the Reformation. 

f I believe are mockeries and ridiculous procession! 
&c. among the Papists. 



A TALE O* A TUB. 1 JQ 

renowned, was his famous universal pickfe** For 
having remarked how your common pickle f , in 
use among housewives, was of no farther benefit 
than to preserve dead flesh, and certain Kinds of 
vegetables ; Peter, with great cost, as well as art, 
had contrived a pickle proper for houses, gardens, 
towns, men. women, chiidien, and cattle; where- 
in he could preserve them as sound as insects in 
amber. Now, this pickle, to the taste, the smell, 
and the sight, appeared exactly the same with 
what is in common service for beef, and butter, 
and herrings, and has been often that way appli- 
ed with great success; but for its many sovereign 
-irtues, was quite a different thing. For Peter 
.rould put in a certain quantity of his powder 
pimperlimpimp^, after which it never failed of 
success. The operation was performed by sparge- 

* Holy water he calls an universal pickle, to preserve 
houses, gardens, towns, men, women, children, and cat- 
tle, wherein he could preserve them as sound as insects 
in amber. W. Wotton. 

f This is easily understood to be holy water, compo- 
sed of the same ingredients with many other pickles. 

% And because holy water differs only in consecration 
from common water, therefore he tells us, that his pic- 
kle by the powder of pimperlimpimp receives new virtues, 
though it differs not in sight nor smell from the common 
pickles, which preserve beef, and butter, and herrings. 

W. Wotton, 



120 A TALE OP A TUB. 



faction*, in a proper time of the moon. The 
patient, who was to be pickled, if it were a house, 
would infallibly be preserved from all spiders, 
rats, and weazels; if the party affected were a 
dog, he should be exempt from mange, and mad- 
ness, and hunger. It also infallibly took away all 
scabs and lice, and scald-heads from children ; 
never hindering the patient from any duty, either 
at bed or board. 

But of all Peter's rarities he most valued a cer- 
tain set of bullsf, whose race was by great fortune 
preserved in a lineal descent from those that 
guarded the golden fleece ; though some, who 
pretended to observe them curiously, doubted 
the breed had not been kept entirely chaste; be- 
cause they had degenerated from their ancestors 
in some qualities, and had acquired others very 
extraordinary, but a foreign mixture. The bulls 
of Colchis are recorded to have brazen feet. But 
whether it happened by ill pasture and running, 
by an allay from intervention of other parents, 

* Sprinkling. 

t The papal bulls are ridiculed by name; so that here 
we are at no loss for the author's meaning. W. Wotton. 

Ibid. Here the author has kept the name, and means 
the Pope's bulls, or rather his nominations, and excom- 
munications of heretical princes, all signed with lead, and 
the seal of fisherman; and therefore said to have leaden 
feet and fishes tails. 



A TALE OF A TUB. 121 

from stolen intrigues; whether a weakness in 
their progenitors had impaired the seminal vir- 
tue, or, by a decline necessary through a long 
course of time, the originals of nature being de- 
praved in these latter sinful ages of the world : 
whatever was the cause, it is certain, That Lord 
Peter's bulls were extremely vitiated by the rust 
of time in the metal of their feet, which w r as now 
sunk into common lead. However, the terrible 
roaring peculiar to their lineage, was preserved, 
as likewise thai faculty of breathing outjire from 
their nostrils # ; vvhich notwithstanding many of 
their detractors took to be a feat of art, and to 
be nothing so terrible as it appeared proceeding 
only from their usual course of diet, which w r as 
of squibs and crackersf. However, they had 
tw T o peculiar marks, which extremely distinguish- 
ed them from the bulls of Jason, and which I 
have not met together in the description of any 
other monster, beside that in Horace, 



* These passages, and many others, no doubt, must be 
construed as antichristian by the church of Rome. When 
the chief minister and his minions are exposed, the keener 
the satire, the more liable it is to be interpreted into high 
treason against the King. Orrery. 

f These are the fulminations of the Pope, threatening 
hell and damnation to those princes who offend him. 



122 A TALE OF A TUB. 

<J Varias inducere plnmas; 

and 
Atrtim desinit in piscern." 

For these hadfishes tails; yet upon occasion could 
out-fly any bird in the air. Peter put these bulls 
upon several employs. Sometimes he would set 
them a roaring to fright naughty boys*, and make 
them quiet. Sometimes he would send them out 
upon errands of great importance; where it is 
wonderful to recount, and perhaps the cautious 
reader may think much to believe it; anappetitus 
semibilis deriving itself through the whole family, 
from their noble ancestors, guardians of the gol- 
den fleece: they continued so extremely fond of 
gold, that if Peter sent them abroad, though it 
were only upon a compliment, they would roar, 
and spit, and belch, and piss, and J art, and snivel 
out fire, and keep a perpetual coil, till you flung 
them a bit of gold; but then, pulveris exigui 
juctu, they would grow calm and quiet as lambs. 
3n short, whether by secret connivance, or en- 
couragement from their master, or out of their 
own liquorish affection to gold, or both : it is 
certain they were uo better than a sort of sturdy, 
swaggering beggars; and, where they could not 
prevail to get an alms, would make women mis- 

* That is, Kings who incurred his displeasure. 



A TALE OF A TUB. ]£3 

carry, and children fall into fits : who to this ve- 
ry day usually call sprights and hobgoblins by 
the name of bull beggars. They grew at last so 
very troublesome to the neighbourhood, that 
some gentlemen of the north-west got a parcel of 
right english bull-dogs, and baited them so terri- 
bly, that they felt it ever after. 

I must needs mention one more of Lord Peter's 
projects, which was very extraordinaiy, and dis- 
covered him to be a master of a high reach, and 
profound invention. Whenever it happened that 
any rogue of Newgate was condemned to be hang-* 
ed, Peter would offer him a pardon for a certain 
sum of money; which when the poor caitiff had 
made all shifts to scrape up, and send, his Lordship 
would return a piece of paper in this form* : 

" TO all mayors, sheriffs, jailors, consta- 
" bles, bailiffs', hangmen, &c. Whereas we are 
" informed, that A. B. remains in the hands of 
11 you, or some of you, under the sentence of 
" death ; we will and command you, upon sight 
" hereof, to let the said prisoner depart to his 

* This is a copy of a general pardon, signed Servus 
servorum. 

Ibid. Absolution in articula mortis, and the tax camera 
tpotlo lie®, are jested upon in Emperor Peter's letter. 

W. Wottm. 
C2 



124 A TALE OF A TUB. 

" own habitation, whether he stands condemned 
" for murder, sodomy, rape, sacrilege, incest, 
" treason, blasphemy, &c. for which this shall 
" be your sufficient warrant. And. if you fail 
" thereof, G — d' d — mn you and yours to all 
" eternity. And so we bid you heartilyfarewelL 
Your most humble 

Mans man, 

Emperor Peter." 

The wretches trusting to this, lost their lives 
and money too. 

I desire of those whom the learned among po- 
sterity will appoint for commentators upon this 
elaborate treatise, that they will proceed with 
great caution upon certain dark points, wherein 
all who are not vere adepti, may be in danger to 
form rash and hasty conclusions ; especially in 
some mysterious paragraphs, where certain ar- 
cana are joined for brevity's sake, which in the 
operation must be divided. And I am certain^ 
that future sons of art will return large thanks to 
my memory, for so grateful, so useful an innuendo. 

It will be no difficult part to persuade the 
reader, that so many worthy discoveries met with 
great success in the world; though I may justly 
assure him, that I have related much the smallest 
number; my design having been only to single 
©ut such as will be of most benefit for public imi- 



A TALE OF A TUB. 125 

tation, or which best served to give some idea 
of the reach and wit of the inventor. And there- 
fore it need not b^ wondered, if by this time 
Lord Peter was become exceeding rich. Bat, 
alas! he had kept his brain so long and so vio- 
lently upon the rack, that at last it shook itself, 
and began to turn round for a little ease. In short, 
what with pride, projects, and knavery, poor 
Peter w r as grown distracted, and conceived the 
strangest imaginations in the world. In the 
height of his fits, as it is usual with those who 
run mad out of pride, he would call himself 
God Almighty*, and sometimes monarch of the 
universe. I have seen him (says my author) take 
three old high-crowned hats f, and clap them all 
on his head, three story high, with a huge bunch 
of keys at his girdle J, and an angling rod in his 
hand. In which guise, whoever went to take 

* The Pope is not only allowed to be the vicar of Christ, 
but by several divines is called God upon earth, and other 
blasphemous titles are given* him. 

f The triple crown. 

% The keys of the church. The church is here ta- 
ken for the gate of heaven ; for the keys of heaven are 
assumed by the Pope in consequence of what our Lord 
said to Peter, I mil give unto thee the keys of the kingdom 
of heaven. Hatches. 

Ibid. The Pope's universal monarchy, and his triple 
crown, and fisher's ring. W. Wotton. 

o S 



126 A TALE OF A TUB. 



him by the hand in the way of salutation, Peter, 
with much grace, like a well educated spaniel, 
would present them with his foot*; and if they 
refused his civility, then he would raise it as high 
as their chops, and give them a damned kick on 
the mouth ; which hath ever since been called a 
salute. Whoever walked by without paying him 
their complements, having a wonderful strong 
breath, he would blow their hats off into the 
dirt. Mean time his affairs at home went upside 
down, and his two brothers had a wretched time; 
where his first boutadef was, to kick both their 
wives one morning out of doors J, and his own 
too; and in their stead, gave orders to pick up 
the first three strollers could be jnet with in the 
streets. A while after he nailed up the cellar- 
door ; and would not allow his brothers a drop 
of drink to their victuals §. Dining one day at 
an alderman's in the city, Peter observed him ex- 

* Neither does his arrogant way of requiring men to 
kiss his slipper scape reflection. W. Wot ton. 

+ This word properly signifies a sudden jerk/ or lash 
of an horse, when you do not expect it. 

\ The celibacy of the Romish clergy is struck at in 
Peters beating his own and brothers wives out of doors. 

W. Wotton. 

§ The Pope's refusing the cup to the laity, persuading 
them that the blood is contained in the bread, and that 
the bread is the real and entire body of Christ. 



; 



A TALE OF A TUB. 12? 

patiating, after the manner of his brethren, in the 
praises of his sirloin of beef. " Beef," said the said 
magistrate, " is the king of meat : Beef compre- 
hends in it the quintessence of partridge, and 
quail, and venison, and pheasant, and plum pud- 
ding, and custard ." When Peter came home, 
he would needs take the fancy of cooking up 
this doctrine into use, and apply the precept, in 
default of a sirloin, to his brown loaf. " Bread/'* 
says he, " dear brothers, is the staff of life ; in 
which bread is contained, inclusive, the quin- 
tessence of beef, mutton, veal, venison, partridge, 
plum-pudding, and custard : And to render all 
complete, there is intermingled a due quantity of 
water, whose crudities are also corrected by yeast 
or barm, through which means it becomes a 
wholesome fermented liquor, diffused through the 
mass of the bread." Upon the strength of these 
conclusions, next day at dinner, was the brown 
loaf served up, in all the formality of a city feast. 
" Come, brothers," said Peter, " fall to, and 
spare not; here is excellent good mutton*: or 
hold, now my hand is in, I will help you." At 
which word, in much ceremony, with fork and 

* Transubstantiation. Peter turns his bread into mut- 
ton, and, according to the Popish doctrine of concomitants, 
his wine too, which in his way he calls palming his damned 
crusts upon the brothers for mutton, W. Wot ton, 

64 



128 A TALE OF A TUB. 

knife he carves out two good slices of a loaf, and 
presents each on a plate to his brothers. The el- 
der of the two, not suddenly entering into Lord 
Peter's conceit, began with very civil language 
to examine the mystery. %i My Lord/ 7 said he, 
(i I doubt, with great submission, there may be 
some mistake." " What!" says Peter, "you are 
pleasant: come then, let us hear this jest your 
head is so big with." " None in the world, my 
Lord ; but, rnless I am very much deceived, your 
Lordship was pleased a while ago to let fall a 
word about mutton, and I would be glad to see 
it with all my heart." " How !" said Peter, ap- 
pearinS in great surprise, " I do not comprehend 
this at all." Upon which, the younger inter- 
posing to set the business aright; " My Lord," 
said he, " my brother I suppose is hungry, and 
longs for the mutton your Lordship hath promi- 
sed us to dinner." €i Pray," said Peter, " take 
me along with you. Either you are both mad, or 
disposed to be merrier than I approve of. If 
you there do not like your piece, I will carve 
you another ; though I should take that to be the 
choice bit of the whole shoulder." " What then 
my Lord," replied the first, " it seems this is a 
shoulder of mutton all this while." " Pray, Sir," 
says Peter, " eat your victuals, and leave ofFyour 
impertinence, if you please; for I am not dispo- 
sed to relish it at present." But the other could 



A TALE OF X TUB. IQ.Q 



not forbear, being over-provoked at the affected 
seriousness of Peter's countenance. " By G— , 
my Lord/' said he, " I can only say, that, to my 
eyes, and fingers, and teeth, and nose, it seems 
to be nothing but a crust of bread." Upon which 
the second put in his word: " I never saw a 
piece of mutton in my life so nearly resembling a 
slice from a twelve-penny loaf." " Look ye, gen- 
tlemen/' cries Peter in a rage, <{ to convince you 
what a couple of blind, positive, ignorant, wilful 
puppies you are, I will use but this plain argu- 
ment; By G — , it is true^ good, natural mutton, 
as any in Leadenhall-m.irket; and G — confound 
you both eternally, if you offer to believe other- 
wise." Such a thundering proof as this left no 
further room for objection. The two unbeliev- 
ers began to gather and pocket up their mistakes 
as hastily as they could. " Why, truly," said 
the first, " upon more mature consideration — " 
"Ay/' says the other, interrupting him, " now I 
have thought better on the thing, your Lordship 
seems to have a great deal of reason." " Very 
well," said Peter. " Here, boy, fill me a beer- 
glass of claret : Here's to you both with all my 
heart." The two brethren, much delighted to 
see him so readily appeased, returned their most 
humble thanks, and said, they would be glad to 
pledge his Lordship. " That you shall," said 
Peter. " I am not a person to refuse you any 

G O 



130 A TALE OF A TUB. 

thing that is reasonable. Wine, moderately ta- 
ken is a cordial. Here is a glass a-piece for you ; 
it is true natural juice from the grape, none of 
your damned vintners brewings." Having 
spoke thus, he presented to each of them another 
large dry crust, bidding them drink it off, and 
not be bashful ; for it would do them no hurt. 
The two brothers, after having performed the u- 
sual office in such delicate conjunctures, of sta- 
ring a sufficient period at Lord Peter, and each 
other; and finding how matters were like to go, 
resolved not to enter on a new dispute, but let 
him carry the point as he pleased : for he was 
now got into one of his mad fits ; and to argue 
or expostulate further, would only serve to ren- 
der him a hundred times more untractable. 

I have chosen to relate this worthy matter in 
all its circumstances, because it gave a principal 
occasion to that great and famous rupture*, 
which happened about the same time among 
these brethren, and was never afterwards made 
up. But of that I shall treat at large in another 
section. 

However, it is certain, that Lord Peter, even 
in his lucid intervals, was very lewdly given in 
his common conversation, extreme wilful and 
positive; and would at any time rather argue to 

• By this rupture is meant the Reformation. 






A TALE OF A TUB. 131 

the death, than allow himself once to be in an 
error. Besides, he had an abominable faculty 
of telling huge palpable lyes upon all occasions ; 
and not only swearing to the truth, but cursing 
the whole company to hell, if they pretended to 
make the least scruple of believing him. One 
time he swore he had a cow at home, which gave 
as much milk at a meal as would fill three thou- 
sand churches ; and, what was yet more extraor- 
dinary, would never turn sour # . Another time 
he was telling of an old signpost^ that belonged 
to his father, with nails and timber enough in it 
to build sixteen large men of war. Talking one 
day of Chinese waggons, which were made so 

light as to sail over mountains : " Z ds," 

said Peter, " where's the wonder of that? By 
G — , I saw a large house of lime and stone tra- 
vel over sea and land, granting that it stopped 
sometimes to bait, above two thousand German 
leagues;];." And that which was the good of it, 

* The ridiculous multiplying of the virgin Mary's milk 
amongst the Papists, under the allegory of a cow which 
gave as much milk at a meal as would fill three thousand 
churches. W. Wot ton. 

f By this sign-post is meant the cross of our blessed Sa- 
viours—and if all the wood that is shewn for parts of 
it, was collected, the quantity would sufficiently justi- 
fy this sarcasm. Hatches. 

J The chapel of Loretto. He falls here only upon tha 

G 6 



132 A TALE OF A TUB. 

he would swear desperately all the while, that he 
never told a lye in his life ; and every word, 
"By G — , Gentlemen, I tell you nothing but 

the truth ; and the d 1 broil them eternally 

that will not believe me." 

In short, Peter grew so scandalous, that all the 
neighbourhood began in plain words to say, he 
was no better than a knave. And his two bro- 
thers, long weary of his ill usage, resolved at last 
to leave him ; but first they humbly desired a co- 
py of their father's will, which had now lain by 
neglected time out of mind. Instead of grant- 
ing this request, he called them u damned sons 
of whores, rogues, traitors," and the rest of the 
vile names he could muster up. However, while 
he was abroad one day upon his projects, the 
two youngsters watched their opportunity, made 
a shift to come at the will, and took a copia ve- 
ra*; by which they presently saw how grossly 

ridiculous invention of Popery. The church of Rome in- 
tended by these things to gull silly superstitious people, 
and rook them out of their money. The world had been 
too long in slavery; but our ancestors gloriously redeem- 
ed us from that yoke. The church of Rome therefore 
ought to be exposed; and he deserves well of mankind, 
that does expose it. W. Wot Ion. 

Ibid. The chapel of Loretto, which travelled from the 
Holy Land to Italy. 

* Translated the scriptures into the vulgar tongues. 



A TALE OF A TUB. 13$ 

they had been abused ; their father having left 
them equal heirs, and strictly commanded, that 
whatever they got should lie in common among 
them all. Pursuant to which, their next enter- 
prise was, to break open the cellar door, and get 
a little good drink to spirit and comfort their 
hearts # . In copying the will, they had met an- 
other precept against whoring, divorce and sepa- 
rate maintainance : upon which their next 
work was, to discard their concubines, and send 
for their wives f. Whilst all this was in agita- 
tion, there enters a solicitor from Newgate, desi- 
ring Lord Peter would please to procure a par- 
don for a thief that was to be hanged to-morrow. 
But the two brothers told him, he was a coxcomb, 
to seek pardons from a fellow who deserved to 
be hanged much better than his client ; and dis- 
covered all the method of that imposture, in the 
same form I delivered it a while ago ; advising 
the solicitor to put his friend upon obtaining a 
pardon from the kwgf. In the midst of all this 
clutter and revolution, in comes Peter with a file 

* Administered the cup to the laity at the communion. 

f Allowed the marriages of priests. 

t Directed penitents not to trust to pardons and absolu- 
tions procured for money; but sent them to implore the 
mercy of God, from whence alone remission is to be 
obtained. 



134 A TALE OF A TUB. 

of dragoons at his heels # ; and gathering from 
all hands what was in the wind, he and his gang, 
after several millions of scurrilities and curses, 
not very important here to repeat, by main force 
very fairly kicks them both out of doors f , and 
would never let them come under his roof from 
that day to this. 



SECT. V. 



A DIGRESSION IN THE MODERN KIND. 



WE, whom the world is pleased to honour 
with the title of modern authors, should never 
have been able to compass our great design of 
an everlasting remembrance, and never-dying 
fame, if our endeavours had not been so highly 
serviceable to the general good of mankind. 

* By Peter's dragoons is meant the civil power, which 
those princes, who were bigotted to the Romish supersti- 
tion, employed against the Reformers.. 

f The Pope shuts all who dissent from him out of 
the church. 



A DIGRESSION IN THE MODERN KIND. 135 

This, Universe! is the adventurous attempt of 
me thy secretary ; 

■ Quemvis perferre laborem 
Suadet, et inducit noctes vigilare serenas. 

To this end, I have some time since, with a 
world of pains and art, dissected the carcass of 
human nature, and read many useful lectures up- 
on the several parts both containing and contain- 
ed ; till at last it smelt so strong, I could preserve 
it no longer. Upon which, I have been at a great 
expence to fit up all the bones with exact con- 
texture, and in due symmetry ; so that I am rea- 
dy to shew a very complete anatomy thereof, to 
all curious u gentlemen and others/'' But, not 
to digress farther in the midst of a digression, as 
I have known some authors inclose digressions 
in one another, like a nest of boxes ; I do affirm, 
that having carefully cut up human nature, I have 
found a very strange, new, and important disco- 
very ; that the public good of mankind is per- 
formed by two ways, instruction and diversion. 
And I have farther proved in my said several 
readings, (which perhaps the world may one day 
see, if I can prevail on any friend to steal a copy, 
or on any certain gentlemen of my admirers, to 
be very importunate), that, as mankind is now 
disposed, he receives much greater advantage by 
being diverted than instructed; his epidemical dis- 



136 A TALE OF A TUB. 

eases being fastidiosity, amorphy, and oscitation; 
whereas, in the present universal empire of wit 
and learning, there seems but little matter left 
for instruction. However, in compliance with a 
lesson of great age and authority, I have at- 
tempted carrying the point in all its heights ? and 
accordingly, throughout this divine treatise, have 
skilfully kneaded up both together, with a layer 
of utile, and a layer of duke. 

When I consider how exceedingly our illustri- 
ous moderns have eclipsed the weak glimmering 
lights of the ancients, and turned them out of the 
road of all fashionable commerce, to a degree, 
that our choice town-wits, of most refined accom- 
plishments, are in grave dispute, whether there 
have been ever any ancients or no*; in which 
point we are like to receive wonderful satisfaction 
from the most useful labours and lucubrations 
of thai worthy modern, Dr JBentley : I say, when 
I consider all this, I cannot but bewail, that no 
famous modern hath ever yet attempted an uni- 
versal system, in a small portable volume, of all 
things that are to be known, or believed, or ima- 
gined, or practised in life. I am however forced 

* The learned person here meant by our author, hath 
been endeavouring to annihilate so many ancient writers, 
that, until he is pleased to stop his hand, it will be dange- 
rous to affirm, whether there have been any ancients in 
the world. 



A DIGRESSION IN THE MODERN KIND. 137 

to acknowledge, that such an enterprise was 
thought on some time ago, by a great philoso- 
pher of O. Brazil*. The method, he proposed, 
was by a certain curious receipt, a nostrum, which, 
after his untimely death, I found among his pa- 
pers ; and do here, out of my great affection to 
the modem learned, present them with it ; not 
doubting, it may one day encourage some wor- 
thy undertaker. 

u You take fair correct copies, well bound in 
calf-skin, and lettered at the back, of all modern 
bodies of arts and sciences whatsoever, and in 
what language you please. These you distil in 
balneo Mariae, infusing quintessence of pop- 
py q. s. together with three pints of lethe, 
to be had from the apothecaries. You cleanse 
away carefully the sordes and caput mortu- 
um, letting all that is volatile evaporate. You 
preserve only the first running, which is again to 
be distilled seventeen times, till what remains 
will amount to about two drams. This you keep 
in a glass vial hermetically sealed, for one and 
twenty days; then you begin your catholic trea- 
tise, taking every morning fasting, first shaking 
the vial, three drops of this elixir, snuffing it 
strongly up your nose. It will dilate itself about 

* This is an imaginary island, of kin to that which 
is called the Painters wives island, placed in some unknown 
part of the ocean, merely at the fancy of the map-maker, 



138 A TALE OF A TUB. 

the brain (where there is any) in fourteen minu- 
tes, and you immediately perceive in your head 
an infinite number of abstracts, summaries, com- 
pendiums, extracts, collections, medulla's, ex- 
cerpta quaedam's, florilegia's, and the like, all 
disposed into great order, and reducible upon 
paper." 

I must needs own, it was by the assistance of 
this arcanum, that I, though otherwise impar, 
have adventured upon so daring an attempt; ne- 
ver atchieved or undertaken before, but by a cer- 
tain author, called Homer; in whom, though o- 
therwise a person not without some abilities, and, 
for an ancient, of a tolerable genius, I have disco- 
vered many gross errors, which are not to be for- 
given his very ashes, if by chance any of them 
are left. For whereas we are assured, he design- 
ed his work for a complete body # of all know- 
ledge, human, divine, political, and mechanic; it 
is manifest, he hath wholly neglected some, and 
been very imperfect in the rest. For, first of all, 
as eminent a cabalist as his disciples would repre- 1 
sent him, his account of the " opus magnum" is 
extremely poor and deficient; he seems to have 
read but very superficially, either Sendivogus, 

* Homerus omnes res humanas poeoaatis complexus est 
XenopL iu conviv* 






A DIGRESSION IN THE MODERN KIND. 139 

Behmcn, or AntophrosophiaTheomagica*. He 
is also quite mistaken about the sphara pyro- 
plastica, a neglect not to be atoned for ; and, if 
the reader will admit so severe a censure, vix 
crederem autorem hunc unquam audivisse ignis 
vocem. His failings are not less prominent in 
several parts of the mechanics. For, having 
read his writings with the utmost application 
usual among modern zvits, I could never yet dis- 
cover the least direction about the structure of 
that useful instrument, a save-all. For want of 
which, if the moderns had not lent their assis- 
tance, we might yet have wandered in the dark. 
But I have still behind a fault, far more notori- 
ous to tax this author with; I mean, his gross 
ignorance in the common lazes of this realm, and 
in the doctrine, as well as discipline of the church 
of England f: a defect indeed, for which both 
he and all the ancients stand most justly censur- 
ed by my worthy and ingenious friend, Mr. 

* A treatise written about fifty years ago, by a Welsh 
gentleman of Cambridge. His name, as I remember, was 
Vaughan ; as appears by the answer written to it by the 
learned Dr Henry Moor. It is a piece of the most unin- 
telligible fustain, that perhaps was ever published in 
any language, 

f Mr. Wotton, (to whom our author never gives any 
any quarter), in his comparison of ancient and modern 
learning, numbers divinity, law, &c. among those part* 
ef knowledge wherein we excel the ancients. 



140 A TALE OF A TUB. 

Wotton, Bachelor of Divinity, in his incompa- 
rable treatise of ancient and modern learning ; a 
book never to be sufficiently valued, whether we 
consider the happy turns and Sowings of the au- 
thor's wit, the great usefulness of his sublime 
discoveries upon the subject of flies and spittle, 
or the laborious eloquence of his style. And I 
cannot forbear doing that author the justice of 
my public acknowledgements, for the great helps 
and liftings I had out of his incomparable 
piece, while I was penning this treatise. 

But, besides these omissions in Homer, alrea- 
dy mentioned, the curious reader will also ob- 
serve several defects in that author's writings, 
for which he is not altogether so accountable. 
For whereas every branch of knowledge has re- 
ceived such wonderful acquirements since his 
age, especially within these last three years, or 
thereabouts; it is almost impossible, he could 
be so very perfect in modern discoveries, as his 
advocates pretend. We freely acknowledge 
him to be the inventor of the compass, of gun- 
powder, and the circulation of the blood. But I 
challenge any of his admirers, to shew me in all 
his writings, a complete account of the spleen. 
Does he not also leave us wholly to seek in the 
art of political wagering ? What can be more 
defective and unsatisfactory, than his long dis- 
sertation upon tea? And as to his method of 



A DIGRESSION IN THE MODERN KIND. 141 

salivation without mercury, so much celebrated 
of late, it is, to my own knowledge and experi- 
ence, a thing very little to be relied on. 

It was to supply such momentous defects, 
that I have been prevailed on, after Jong solici- 
tation, to take pen in hand; and I dare venture 
to promise, the judicious reader shall find no- 
thing neglected here, that can be of use upon 
any emergency of life. I am confident to have 
included and exhausted all that human imagina- 
tion can rise or fall to. Particularly, I recom- 
mend to the perusal of the learned, certain dis- 
coveries that are wholly untouched by others; 
whereof I shall only mention, among a great ma- 
ny more, My nezo help for smatterers; or, The 
art of being deep-leamtd, and shallow-read : — A 
curious invention about mouse traps: — An univer- 
sal rule of reason; or, Every man his own carver-, 
together with a most useful engine for catching 
of owls. All which the judicious reader will find 
largely treated on in the several parts of this dis- 
course. 

I hold myself obliged to give as much light as 
is possible, into the beauties and excellences of 
what I am writing, because it is become the fa- 
shion and humour most applauded among the 
first authors of this polite and learned age, when 
they would correct the ill-nature, of critical, or 
inform the ignorance of courteous readers. Be- 



142 A TALE OF A TUB. 

sides, there have been several famous pieces late- 
ly published, both in verse and prose; wherein, 
if the writers had not been pleased, out of their 
great humanity and affection to the public, to 
give us a nice detail of the sublime and the admi- 
rable they contain, it is a thousand to one, whe- 
ther we should ever have discovered one grain 
of either. For my own particular, I cannot de- 
ny, that whatever I have said upon this occasion, 
had been more proper in a preface, and more 
agreeable to the mode, which usually directs it 
thither. But I here think fit to lay hold on that 
great and honourable privilege of being the last 
writer; I claim an absolute authority in right, 
as the freshest modern, which gives me a despo- 
tic power over all authors before me. In the 
strength of which title, I do utterly disapprove 
and declare against that pernicious custom, of 
making the preface a bill of fare to the book. 
For I have always looked upon it as a high point 
of indiscretion in monster-mongers, and other re- 
tailers of strange sights, to hang out a fair large 
picture over the dopr, drawn after the life, with 
a most elegant description underneath. This 
hath saved me many a three-pence; for my cu- 
riosity was fully satisfied, and I never offered to 
go in, though often invited by the urging and at- 
tending orator, with his last moving and stand- 
ing piece of rhetoric, Sir, upon my word, we am 



A DIGRESSION IN THE MODERN KIND. 143 

just going to begin. Such is exactly the fate, at 
this time, of Prefaces, Epistles, Advertisements^ 
Introductions, Prolegomena s, Apparatus's, To 
the readers. This expedient was admirable at 
first- Our great Dryden has long carried it as 
far as it would go, and with incredible success. 
He hath often said to me in confidence, that the 
world would have never suspected him to be so 
great a poet, if he had not assured thern so fre- 
quently in his prefaces, that it was impossible 
they could either doubt or forget it. Perhaps 
it may be so: however, I much fear, his in- 
structions have edified out of their place, and 
taught men to grow wiser in certain points, 
where he never intended they should:, for it is 
lamentable to behold; with what a lazy scorn 
many of the yawning readers of our age do now r - 
a-days twirl over forty or fifty pages of preface 
and dedication, (which is the usual modern stint), 
as if it were so much Latin. Though it must 
be also allowed, on the other hand, that a 
very considerable number is known to proceed 
critics and wits, by reading nothing else. Into 
which two factions, I think, all present readers 
may justly be divided. Now, for myself, I pro- 
fess to be of the former sort : and therefore ha- 
ting the modern inclination to expatiate upon 
the beauty of my own productions, and display 
the bright parts of my discourse, I thought be*t 



144 A TALE OF A TUB. 

to do it in the body of the work; where, as it 
now lies, it makes a very considerable addition 
to the bulk of the volume ; a circumstance by no 
means to be neglecttd by a skilful writer. 

Having thus paid my due deference and ac- 
knowledgement to an established custom of our 
newest authors, by a long digression unsought for, 
and an universal censure unprovoked; by forcing 
into the light, with much pains and dexterity, 
my own excellencies, and other men's defaults, 
with great justice to myself, and candour to 
them; I now happily resume my subject, to the 
infinite satisfaction both of the reader and the 
author. 



SECT. VI. 
A TALE OF A TUB, 



WE left Lord Peter in open rupture with his 
two brethren ; both for ever discarded from his 
house, and resigned to the wide world, with lit- 
tle or nothing to trust to. Which are circum- 



A TALE OF A TUB. 145 

stances that render them proper subjects for the 
charity of a writer's pen to work on; scenes of 
misery ever affording the fairest harvest for great 
adventures. And in this the world may perceive 
the difference between the integrity of a gene- 
rous author, and that of a common friend. The 
latter is observed to adhere close in prosperity, 
but, on the decline of fortune, to drop suddenly 
off: whereas the generous author, just on the 
contrary, finds his hero on the dunghill, from 
thence by gradual steps raises him to a throne, 
and then immediately withdraws, expecting not 
so much as thanks for his pains. In imitation 
of which example, I have placed Lord Peter in. ,« 

a noble house, given him a title to wear, and *% 

money to spend. There I shall leave him for 
some time; returning where common charity /f 

directs me, to the assistance of his two brothers 
at their lowest ebb. However, I shall bf nu 
means forget my character of an historian, to 
follow the truth step by step, whatever happens; 1 , 
or where-ever it may lead me. 

The two exiles, so nearly united in fortune 
and interest, took a lodging together; where, 
their first leisure, they began to reflect on the 
numberless misfortunes and vexations of their 
life past; and could not tell, on the sudden, to 
what failure in their conduct they ought to im- 
pute them ; when, after some recollection, they 

H 



146 A TALE OF A TUB. 



called to mind the copy of their father's roil/, 
which they had so happily recovered. This was 
immediately produced, and a firm resolution 
taken between them, to alter whatever was al- 
ready amiss, and reduce all their future measures 
to the strictest obedience prescribed therein. 
The main body of the will, (as the reader can- 
not easily have forgot) consisted in certain ad- 
mirable rules about the wearing of their coats: 
in the perusal whereof, the two brothers at eve- 
ry period duly comparing the doctrine with the 
practice, there was never seen a wider difference 
between two things ; horrible, downright trans- 
gressions of every point. Upon which they 
both resolved, without further delay, to fall im- 
mediately upon reducing the whole exactly af- 
ter their father's model. * 

But here it is good to stop the hasty reader, 
ever impatient to see the end of an adventure, 
before we writers can duly prepare him for it. 
I am to record, that these two brothers began 
to be distinguished at this time by certain 
names. One of them desired to be called MAR- 
TIN # , and the other took the appellation of 
JACKf . These two had lived in much friend- 
ship and agreement, under the tyranny of their 
brother Peter; as it is the talent of fellow suffer- 

* Martin Luther. f John Calvin. 



A TALE OF A TUB. 147 

in misfortune being like men in the 
dark, to whom all colours are the same. But 
when they came forward into the world, and be- 
gan to display themselves to each other, and to 
the light, their complexions appeared extremely 
different; which the present posture of their af- 
fairs gave them sudden opportunity to dis~ 
cover. 

But here the severe reader may justly tax me 
as a writer of short memory; a deficiency to 
which a true modern cannot but, of necessity, be 
a little subject: because memory being an em- 
ployment of the mind upon things past, is a fa- 
culty, for which the learned in our' illustrious 
age have no manner of occasion, who deal en- 
tirely with invention, and strike all things out of 
themselves, or at least by collision from each o- 
ther; upon which account we think it highly 
reasonable to produce our great forgetfulness, 
as an argument unanswerable for our great wit. 
I ought, in method, to have informed the reader 
about fifty pages ago, of a fancy Lord Peter 
took, and infused into his brothers, to wear on 
their coats whatever trimmings came up in fa- 
shion; never pulling off any as they went out of 
the mode, but keeping on all together; which a* 
mounted in time to a medley, the most antic 
yon can possibly conceive: and this to a degree, 
that, upon the time of their falling out, there 
h 2 



148 A TALE OF A TUB. 

was hardly a thread of the original coat to be 
seen; but an infinite quantity of lace, and rib- 
bands, and fringe, and embroidery, and points; 
([ mean only those tagged with silver*, -for the 
rest fell off). Now, this material circumstance 
having been forgot in due place; as good for- 
tune hath ordered, comes in very properly here, 
when the two brothers are just going to reform 
their vestures into the primitive state, prescribed 
by their father's will. 

They both unanimously entered upon this 
great work, looking sometimes on their coats, 
and sometimes on the will, Martin laid the 
first hand; at one twitch brought off a large 
handful of points', and, with a second pull, strip- 
ped away ten dozen yard^ of fringe. But when 
he had gone thus far, he demurred a while. He 
knew very well, there yet remained a great deal 
more to be done. However, the first heat being 
over, his violence began to cool, and he resolved 
to proceed more moderately i n the rest of the work ; 
having already very narrowly escaped a swing- 
ing rent in pulling off the points, which, being 
tagged with silver, (as we have observed before), 
the judicious workman had with much sagacity 

* Points tagged with silver, or those doctrines that pro- 
mote the greatness and wealth of the church, which have 
been therefore woven deepest in the body of Popery. 



A TALE OF A TUB. 149 

double sown, to preserve them from falling. 
Resolving therefore to rid his coat of a huge 
quantity olgo/d lace, he picked up the stitches 
with much caution, and diligently gleaned out 
all the loose threads as he went; which proved 
to be a work of time. Then he fell about the 
embroidered Indian figures of men, women, and 
children; against which, as you have heard in 
its due place, their father's testament was ex- 
tremely exact and severe: these, with much 
dexterity and application, were, after a while, 
quite eradicated, or utterly defaced. For the 
rest, where he observed the embroidery to be 
worked so close, as not to be got away without 
damaging the cloth, or where it served to hide 
or strengthen any flaw in the body of the coat, 
contracted by the perpetual tampering of work- 
men upon it; he concluded, the w 7 isest course 
was, to let it remain; resolving in no case what- 
soever, that the substance of the stuff should 
suffer injury; which he thought the best method 
for serving the true intent and meaning of his 
father's will. And this is the nearest account I 
have been able to collect of Martin's proceed 
ings upon this great revolution *.. 

* The criticisms of the Martinists (whom we may suppose 
the members of the church. of England) were, it is to be 
Hoped, more candid than those contained in the following 
$ote ; for Martin is treated with a muuh less degree of sar- 

St 3 



150 A TALE OF A TUB. 

'■■■ '"' ". ' . " ' . ' " " ' . ' ' " ** * "" * " '"' " " * * ■ '• 

But his brother Jack*, whose adventures will 
be so extraordinary as to furnish a great part in 
the remainder of this discourse, entered upon 
the matter with other thoughts, and a quite dif- 



casm than the other two brothers.— The church of En- 
gland can scarce be angry at such a favourable account of 
Luther; especially as we have since reformed from Luthe: 
himself; and, so far as our judgements can teach us, hav 
restored our habits still nearer to the original fashion, 
which they bore at the perfection of the testament. 

Orrery. 
* In the character of Jack, a set of people were alarmed, 
who are easily offended, and who can scarce bear the chear- 
fulness of a smile. In their dictionary, wit is only ano- 
ther name for wickedness; and the purer or more excellent 
the wit, the greater and more impious the abomination. 
However wide, therefore, the difference of Peter and Jack 
might have been in fashioning their coats, the two bro- 
thers most sincerely agreed in their hatred of an adversary 
so powerful as this anonymous author. They spared no 
unmannerly reflections up©n his character. They had re- 
course to every kind of abuse that could reach him. And 
sometimes it was the work of Swift and his companions : 
sometimes not a syllable of it was his work ; it was the 
work of one of his uncle's sons, a clergyman; and some- 
times it was the work of a person who was to be nameless. 
Each of these malicious conjectures reigned in its turn : 
and it will be found, that bold assertions, however false, 
almost constantly meet with success; a kind of triumph 
that would appear one of the severest institutes of fate, if 
time and truth did not soon obliterate all marks of the vic- 
tory, Orrery. 



A TALE OF A TUB. 1 j I 

£— — " ■■ ■ . . ... . — ,... ... ,-- • ~-g 

ferent spirit. For the memory of Lord Peter's 
injuries produced a degree of hatred and spite, 
which iiad a much greater share of inciting him, 
than any regards after his father's commands; 
since these appeared at best only secondary and 
subservient to the other. However, for this 
medley of humour he made a shift to fiad a very- 
plausible name, honouring it with the title of 
zealj which is perhaps the most significant word 
that hath been ever yet produced in any lan- 
guage; as, I think, I have fully proved in my 
excellent analytical discourse upon that subject; 
wherein I have deduced a histori-theo-phisi-logical 
account of zeal, shewing how it first proceeded 
from a notion into a word, and from thence, in a 
hot summer, ripened into a tangible substance. 
This work, containing three large volumes in fo- 
lio, I design very shortly to publish by the mo- 
dern way o£ subscription ; not doubting but the 
nobility and gentry of the land will give me all 
possible encouragement, having had already 
such a taste of what I am able to perform. 

I record, therefore, that brother Jack, brim- 
full of this miraculous compound, reflecting with 
indignation upon Peter's tyranny, and farther 
provoked by the despondency of Martin, prefa- 
ced his resolutions to this purpose. What, said . 
he, a rogue that locked up his drink, turned- away 
our wives, cheated us of our fortunes, palmed his 

h 4 



152 A TALE OF A TUB. 

damned crusts upon us for mutton, and at last 
kicked us out of doors; must we be in his fashions, 
with a pox! a rascal, besides, that all the street 
cries out against. Having thus kindled and in- 
flamed himself as high as possible, and by con- 
sequence in a delicate temper for beginning a 
reformation, he set about the work immediately, 
and in three minutes made more dispatch than 
Martin had done in as many hours. For, cour- 
teous reader, you are given to understand, that 
zeal is never so highly obliged, as when you set 
it a tearing', and Jack, who doted on that quali- 
ty in himself, allowed it at this time its full 
swing. Thus it happened, that stripping down 
a parcel of gold lace, a little too hastily, he rent 
the main body of his coat from top to bottom; 
and whereas his talent was not of the happiest 
in taking up a stitch, he knew no better way, than 
to darn it again with pack-thread and a skewer. 
But the matter was yet infinitely worse (I record 
it with tears) when he proceeded to the embroi- 
dery : for, being clumsy by nature, and of tem- 
per impatient ; withal, beholding millions of 
stitches that required the nicest hand, and seda- 
test constitution, to extricate; in a great rage 
he tore off the whole piece, cloth and all, and 
flung it into the kennel, and furiously thus con- 
tinued his career: Ah, good brother Martin, said 
he, do as I do, for the love of God; strip, tear, 






A TA27E OF A TUB. 353 

pull, rend, flay off all, that we may appear as un- 
like the rogue Peter, as it is possible. I would 
not, for an hundred pounds, carry the least mark 
about me, that might give occasion to the neigh- 
bours, of suspecting I was related to such a rascal. 
But Martin, who at this time happened to be ex* 
trernely flegmatic and sedate, begged his brother, 
of all love, not to damage his coat bij any means; 
for he never would, get such another: desired him 
to consider, that it w>as not their business to form 
their actions by any reflection upon Peter, but by 
observing the rules prescribed in their father's will: 
that he should remember, Peter zvas still their 
brother, whatever faults or injuries he had commits 
ted ; and therefore they should by all means avoid 
such a thought, as that of taking measures for good 
and evil, from no other rule than of opposition to 
him: that it was true, the testament of their good 
father was very exact in zohat related to the zoear- 
ing of their coats ; yet was it no less penal and 
strict in prescribing agreement, and friendship, 
and affection between them; and therefore, if 
straining a point were at all dispensable, it would 
certainly be so, rather to the advance of unity > , 
than increase of contradiction* 

Martin had still proceeded as gravely as he 
began; and doubtless would have delivered an 
admirable lecture of morality, which might have 
exceedingly contributed to my reader's repose, 

H 5 



154 A TALE OF A TUB. 

both of body and mind, the true ultimate end of 
ethics; but Jack was already gone a flight-shot 
beyond his patience. And as, in scholastic dis- 
putes, nothing serves to rouse the spleen of him 
that opposes, so much as a kind of pedantic affect- 
ed calmness in the respondent ; disputants being 
for the most part like unequal scales, where the 
gravity of one side advances the lightness of the 
other, and causes it to fly up, and kick the beam : 
so it happened here, that the weight of Martin's 
arguments exalted Jack's levity, and made him 
fly out and spurn against his brother's modera- 
tion. In short, Martin's patience put Jack in a 
rage. But that which most afflicted him, was, 
to observe his brother's coat so well reduced in- 
to the state of innocence; while his own was ei- 
ther wholly rent to his shirt; or those places,, 
which had escaped his cruel clutches, were still 
in Peter's livery : so that he looked like a drun- 
ken beau, half rifled by bullies; or like a fresh 
tenant in Newgate, when he has refused the 
payment of garnish; or like a discovered shop- 
lifter, left to the mercy of Exchange women* ; 

* The galleries over the piazzas in the Royal Exchange, 
were formerly filled with shops, kept chiefly by women. 
The same use was made of a building called the New Ex- 
change in the strand. This edifice has been pulled down; 
the shopkeepers have removed from the Royal Exchange 
into Cornhill, and . the adjacent streets; and there are 



A TALE OF A TUB. 155 

- ... • ■ - .. . .. 1 . . ■ •-^. .^ -.. . : ===:s 

or like a bawd in her old velvet petticoat, resign- 
ed into the secular hands of the mobile. Like 
any, or like all of these, a medley of rags-, and 
lace, and rents, and fringes, unfortunate Jack did 
now appear- He would have been extremely 
glad to see his coat in the condition of Martin's, 
but infinitely gladder to find that of Martin in 
the same predicament with his. However, since 
neither of these was likely to come to pass, he 
thoughtfit to lend the whole business another turn, 
and to dress up necessity^ into a virtue. There- 
fore, after as many of the fox's arguments* as 
he could muster up, for bringing Martin to rea- 
son, as he called it, or, as he meant it, into his 
own ragged, bob-tailed condition; and observ- 
ing he said all to little purpose; what, alas! was 
left for the forlorn Jack to do, but, after a mil- 
lion of scurrilities against his brother, to run 
mad with spleen, and spite, and contradiction? 
To be short, here began a mortal breach between 
these two. Jack went immediately to new lodg- 
ings, and in a few days it was for certain report- 
now no remains of Exchange women, hut in Exeter 'change, 
and they are no longer, deemed the first ministers of fa- 
shion. Hawkes. 

* The fox in the fable, who having been caught in a 
trap, and lost his tail, used many arguments to persuade 
the rest to cut off theirs; that the singularity of his defor-- 
mity might not expose him to derision, Hawkes. 
hl6 



1.56 A TALE OF A TUB/ 

ed, that he had run out of his wits. In a short 
time after, he appeared abroad, and confirmed 
the report by falling into the oddest whimsies 
that ever a sick brain conceived. 

And now the little boys in the streets began 
to salute him with several names. Sometimes 
they would call him Jack the bald* ; sometimes, 
Jack with the lanthorn f ; sometimes, Dutch 
Jack J; sometimes, French Hngh§; sometimes, 
Tom the Beggar || ; and sometimes, Knocking 
Jack of the North ^f. And it was under one, or 
some, or all of these appellations, which I leave 
the learned reader to determine, that he hath gi- 
ven rise to the most illustrious and epidemic 
sect of jEolists, who, with honourable commemo- 
ration, do still acknowledge the renowned 
JACK for their author and founder. Of whose 
original, as well as principles, I am now advan- 
cing to gratify the world with a very particular 
account. 



-Melleo contingens cuncta lepore* 



* That is, Calvin; from callus, bald. 
f All those who pretend to inward light 
J Jack of Leyden, who gave rise to the Anabaptists. 
§ The Hugonots. 

J| The Guenses, by which name some Protestants in 
Flanders were called. 
f John Knox the reformer of Scotland, 



! 



DIGRESSION IN PRAISE OF DIGRESSIONS. 1ST 

SECT. VII. 
A DIGRESSION IN PRAISE OF DIGRESSIONS 



I have sometimes heard of an Iliad in a nut- 
shell; but it hath been my fortune to have much 
oftner seen a nutshell in an Iliad. There is no 
doubt that human life has received most won- 
derful advantages from both; but to which of 
the two the world is chiefly indebted, I shall 
leave among the curious, as a problem worthy of 
their utmost inquiry. For the invention of the 
latter, I think the commonwealth of learning is 
chiefly obliged to the great modern improve- 
ment of digressions: the late refinements in 
knowledge running parallel to those of diet in 
our nation, which, among men of a judicious 
taste, are dressed up in various compounds, con* 
sisting in soups and olio's, fricassees and ragousts. 

It is true, there is a sort of morose, detract- 
ing, ill-bred people, who pretend utterly to dis- 
relish these polite innovations. And as to the 
similitude from diet, they allow the parallel; but 



158 A TALE OF A TUB. 

are so bold to pronounce the example itself, a 
corruption and degeneracy of taste. They tell 
us, that the fashion of jumbling fifty things to- 
gether in a dish, was at first introduced in com- 
pliance to a depraved and debauched appetite, as 
well as to a crazy constitution : and to see am i 
hunting through an olio after the head and brains 
of a goose, a widgeon, or a woodcock, is a sign he 
wants a stomach and digestion for more substan- 
tial victuals. Farther they affirm, that digres- 
sions in a book are like foreign troops in a state, 
which argue the nation to want a heart and 
hands of its own; and often either subdue the 
natives, or drive them into the most unfruitful 
corners. 

But, after ail that can be objected by these 
supercilious censors, it is manifest, the society 
of writers would quickly be reduced to a very 
inconsiderable number, if men were put upon 
making books, with the fatal confinement of de- 
livering nothing beyond what is to the purpose. 
It is acknowledged, that were the case the same 
among us as with the Greeks and Romans, 
when learning was in its cradle, to be reared,, 
and fed, and clothed by invention •, it would be 
an easy task to fill up volumes upon particular 
occasions, without farther expatiating from the 
subject, than by moderate excursions, helping 
to advance or clear the main design. But with*. 



DIGRESSION IN PRAISE OF DIGRESSIONS. 159 

knowledge it has fared as with a numerous army, 
encamped in a fruitful country; which for a few 
days maintains itself by the product of the soil 
it is on; till, provisions being spent, they are 
sent to forage many a mile, among friends or 
enemies, ii>rnatters not. Mean while, the neigh- 
bouring fields, trampled and beaten down, be- 
come barren and dry, affording no sustenance 
hut clouds of dust. 

The whole course of things being thus entire- 
ly changed between us and the ancients, and the 
moderns wisely sensible of it; we of this age 
have discovered a shorter, and a more prudent 
method, to become scholars and wits, without 
the fatigue of reading and thinking. The most 
accomplished w 7 ay of using books at present, is 
twofold: either, first, to serve them as some 
men do lords, learn their titles exactly, and then 
brag of their acquaintance; or, secondly, which 
is indeed the choicer, the profounder, and poli- 
ter method, to get a thorough insight into the 
index, by which the whole book is governed and 
turned, like fishes by the tail. For to enter the 
palace of learning at the great gate, requires an 
expence of time and forms; therefore men of 
much haste and little ceremony are content to 
get in by the back-door. For the arts are all in 
a flying march, and therefore more easily subdu- 
ed by attacking them in the rear. Thus physi- 



160 A TALE OF A TUB. 

cians discover the state of the whole body, by 
consulting only what comes from behind. Thus 
men catch knowledge by throwing their wit on 
the posteriors of a book, as boys do sparrows by 
flinging salt upon their tails. Thus human life 
is best understood by the wise man's rule of re- 
garding the end. Thus are the sciences found, 
like Hercules's oxen, by tracing them backwards. 
Thus are old sciences unravelled like old stockings 
by beginning at the foot. 

Besides all this, the army of the sciences hath 
been of late, with a world of martial discipline, 
drawn into its close order, so that a view, or a 
muster may be taken of it with abundance of 
expedition. For this great blessing we are whol- 
ly indebted to syflems and abstracts, in which the 
modern fathers of learning, like prudent usurers, 
spent their sweat for the ease of us their chil- 
dren.. For labour is the seed of idleness, and k 
is the peculiar happiness of our noble age to ga- 
ther the fruit. 

Now, the method of growing wise, learned, 
and sublime, having become so regular an affair, 
and so established in all its forms; the number 
of writers must needs nave increased according- 
ly, and to a pitch that has made it of absolute 
necessity for them to interfere continually with 
each other. Besides, it is reckoned, that there 
is not at this present a sufficient quantity of 



DIGRESSION IN PRAISE OF DIGRESSIONS. I6i 

new matter left in nature, to furnish and adorn 
any one particular subject to the extent of a vo- 
lume. This I am told by a very skilful compu- 
ter, who hath given a full demonstration of it 
from the rules of arithmetic. 

This perhaps may be objected against by 
those who maintain the infinity of matter, and 
therefore will not allow that any species of it can 
be exhausted. For answer to which, let us exa- 
mine the noblest branch of modern wit or inven- 
tion, planted and cultivated by the present age; 
and which of all others hath borne the most, and 
the fairest fruit. For though some remains of 
it were left us b}' the ancients, yet have not any 
of those, as I remember, been translated, or 
compiled into systems for modern use. There- 
fore we may affirm, to our own honour, that it 
hath, in some sort, been both invented, and 
brought to a perfection by the same hands. 
What I mean, is that highly celebrated talent a- 
mong the modern wits, of deducing similitudes, 
allusions, and applications, very surprising, a- 
greeable, and apposite, from the pudenda of ei- 
ther sex, together with their proper uses. And 
truly, having observed how little invention 
bears any vogue, besides what is derived into 
these channels, I have sometimes had a thought, 
that the happy genius of our age and country 
was prophetically held forth by that ancient ty- 



162 A TALE OF A TUB. 

pical description of the Indian pygmies ; whose 
stature did not exceed above two feet ; sed quorum 
pudenda crassa, et ad talos usque pertingentia # 
Now, I have been very curious to inspect the 
late productions, wherein the beauties of this 
kind have most prominently appeared. And al- 
though this vein hath bled so freely, and all en- 
deavours have been used in the power of human 
breath, to dilate, extend, and keep it open; like 
the Scythians, who had a custom^ and an instru- 
ment, to blow up the privities of their mares, that 
they might yield the more milkf; yet I am under 
an apprehension, it is near growing dry, and , 
past all recovery; and that either some new 
fonde of wit should, if possible, be provided, or 
else that we must e'en be content with repeti- 
tion here, as well as upon all other occasions. 

This will stand as an incontestable argument, 
that our modern wits are not to reckon upon the 
infinity of matter, for a constant supply. What 
remains therefore, but that our last recourse 
must be had to large indexes, and little compendia 
urns? Quotations must be plentifully gathered, 
and booked in alphabet. To this end, though 
authors need be little consulted, yet critics, and 
commentators, and lexicons, carefully must. But 
above all, those judicious collectors of bright 

* C testa fragm*. apud Photium. f Herodot. 1, 4. 



DIGRESSION IN PRAISE OF DIGRESSIONS. 163 

[ ^ 

parts, and flowers, and observandas, are to be 
nicely dwelt on, by some called the sieves and 
boulters of learning; though it is left uudeter- 
j mined, whether they dealt in pearls or meal; 
and consequently, whether we are more to va- 
lue that which passed through, or what staid be- 
hind. 

By these methods, in a few weeks, there starts 
up many a writer, capable of managing the pro- 
foundest, and most universal subjects. For 
what though his head be empty, provided his 
common-place book be full? And if you will bate 
him but the circumstances of method, and style, 
and grammar, and invention-, allow him but the 
common privileges of transcribing from others, 
and digressing from himself, as often as he shall 
see occasion; he will desire no more ingredients 
towards fitting up a treatise, that shall make a 
very comely figure on a bookseller's shelf, there 
to be preserved neat and clean for a long eterni- 
ty, adorned with the heraldry of its title fairly 
inscribed on a label; never to be thumbed or 
greased by students, nor bound to everlasting 
chains of darkness in a library; but when the 
fulness of time is come, shall happily undergo 
the trial of purgatory, in order to ascend the 
sky. 

Without these allowances, how is it possible 
we modern wits should ever have aa opportunity 



164 A TALE OF A TUB. 

to introduce our collections, listed under so ma- 
ny thousand heads of a different nature? for 
want of which, the learned world would be de- 
prived of infinite delight, as well as instruction; 
and we ourselves buried, beyond redress, in an 
inglorious and undistinguished oblivion. 

From such elements as these, I am alive to 
behold the day, wherein the corporation of au- 
thors can outvie all its brethren in the guild: a 
happiness derived to us with a great many o- 
thers, from our Scythian ancestors; among whom* 
the number of pens was so infinite, that the Gre- 
cian eloquence had no other way of expressing 
it, than by saying, that in the region far to the 
North, it was hardly possible for a man to travel, 
the vert/ air was so replete xmth feathers # . 

The necessity of this digression will easily ex- 
cuse the length; and I have chosen for it as 
proper a place as I could readily find. If the 
judicious reader can assign a fitter, I do here 
impower him to remove it into any other corner 
he pleases. And so I return, with great alacri- 
ty, to pursue a more important concern. 

* Herodot. 1. 4. 



A TALE OF A TUB. 16g 



SECT. VIII. 



A TAXE OF A TUB. 



THE learned iEolists* maintain the original 
cause of all things to be wind, from which prin- 
ciple this whole universe was at first produced, 
and into which it must at last be resolved; that 
the same breath which had kindled, and blew 
up the flame of nature, should one day blow it 
out: 

Quod procul a nobis flectat fortuna ^ubernans. 

This is what the adepti understand by their a- 

nima mundi; that is to say, the spirit, or breath, 

or wind of the world. For examine the whole 

I system by the particulars of nature, and you will 

find it not to be disputed. For whether you 

S please to call the forma informans of man, by 
the name of spirit us, animus, afflatus, or anima\ 

* All pretenders to inspiration whatsoever. 



166 A TALE OF A TUB. 

what are all these but several appellations for 
wind® which is the ruling element in every com- 
pound, and into which they all resolve upon 
their corruption Farther, what is life itself, 
but, as it is commonly called, the breath of our 
nostril? Whence it is very justly observed by 
naturalists, that wind still continues of great e- 
molument in certain mysteries not to be named, 
giving occasion for those happy epithets of tur- 
gidus, and inflatus, applied either to the emittent 
or recipient organs. 

By what I have gathered out of ancient re- 
cords, I find the compass of their doctrine took 
in two and thirty points, wherein it would be te- 
dious to be very particular. However, a few of 
their most important precepts, deducible from 
it, are by no means to be omitted; among which 
the following maxim was of much weight. That 
since wind had the master-share, as well as ope- 
ration in every compound, by consequence those 
beings must be of chief excellence, wherein that 
primordwm appears most prominently to abound; 
and therefore man is in highest perfection of all 
created things, as having, by the great bounty 
of philosophers, been endued with three distinct 
anima's or winds, to which the sage iEolists, with 
much liberality, have added a fourth, of equal 
necessity, as well as ornament, with the other 
three;- by this quartum principium, taking in our 



A TALE OF A TUB. 1 67 

four corners of the world; which gave occasion 
for that renowned cabalist, Bumbastus*, of pla- 
cing the body of men in due position to the four 
cardinal points. 

In consequence of this, their next principle 
was, that man brings with him into the world a 
peculiar portion or grain of wind, which may be 
called a quinta essentia, extracted from the other 
four. This quintessence is of a catholic use upon 
all emergencies of life, is improvable into all arts 
and sciences, and may be wonderfully refined, as 
well as enlarged, by certain methods in educa- 
tion. This, when blown up to its perfection, 
ought not to be covetously hoarded up, stifled, 
or hid under a bushel, but freely communicated 
to mankind. Upon these reasons, and others of 
equal weight, the wise JEolists affirm the gift of 
BELCH IN G to be the noblest act of a rational 
creature. To cultivate which art, and render it 
more serviceable to mankind, they made use of 
several methods. At certain seasons of the 
year, you might behold the priests among them 
in vast numbers, with their mouths gaping zeide 
enough against a stormy. > At other times were 
to be seen several hundred linked together in a 

* This is one of the names of Paracelsus. He was called 
Christopborus Theophrastus Paracelsus Bumbastus. 

t This is meant of those seditious preachers, who blow 
up the seeds of rebellion, &c. 




168 A TALE OF A TUB. 

circular chain, with every man a pair of bellows 
applied to his neighbour's breech, by which 
they blew up each other to the shape and size of 
a tun; and for that reason, with great propriety 
of speech, did usually call their bodies their ves- \ 
sels. When, by these and the like performances, ! 
they were grown sufficiently replete, they would j 
immediately depart, and disembogue, for the 
public good, a plentiful share of their acquire- 
ments into their disciples chaps. For we must 
here observe, that all learning was esteemed a- 
mong them to be compounded from the same 
principle : because, first, it is generally affirmed, 
or confessed, that learning puffeth men up: And, 
secondly, they proved it by the following syllo- 
gism: Words are but wind, and learning is no- 
thing but words; ergo, learning is nothing but 
wind. For this reason, the philosophers among 
them did, in their schools, deliver to their pu- 
pils, all their doctrines and opinions by eructa- 
tion, wherein they had acquired a wonderful e- 
loquence, and of incredible variety. But the 
great characteristic by which their chief sages 
were best distinguished, was a certain position 
of countenance, which gave undoubted intelli- 
gence to what degree or proportion the spirit a- 
gitated the inward mass. For, after certain gri- 
pings, the wind and vapours issuing forth; hav- 
ing first, by their turbulence and convulsions 



A TALE OF A TUB. 169 

within, caused an earthquake in man's little 
world; distorted the mouth, bloated the cheeks, 
and gave the eyes a terrible kind of relievo. At 
which junctures, all their belches were received 
for sacred, the sourer the better, and swallowed 
with infinite consolation by their meagre devo- 
tees, And to render these yet more complete; 
because the breath of man's life is in his nos- 
trils, therefore the choicest, most edifying, and 
most enlivening belches, were very wisely con- 
veyed through that vehicle, to give them a tinc- 
ture as they passed. 

Their gods were the four winds, whom they 
worshipped y as the spirits that pervade and enli- 
ven the universe, and as those from whom alone 
all inspiration can properly be said to proceed. 
However, the chief of these, to whom they per- 
formed the adoration of latria*, was the almigh- 
ty North: an ancient deity, whom the inhabi- 
tants of Megalopolis, in Greece, had likewise in 
the highest reverence: Omnium deorum Boream 
maxime celebrant f. This god, though endued 
with ubiquity, was yet supposed by the profoun- 
der iEolists to possess one peculiar habitation, 
or (to speak in form) a cesium emipyr&um, where- 
in he was more intimately present. This was si- 

* Latvia is that worship which is paid only to the 8u 
preme Deity. Hawkes. 
f Pausan. 1. 8. 



170 A TALE OF A TUB. 

tuated in a certain region, well known to the 
ancient Greeks, by them called zxotU, or. the 
land of darkness. And although many contro- 
versies have arisen upon that matter; yet so 
much is undisputed, that, from a region of the 
like denomination , the most refined iEolists have 
borrowed their original; from whence, in every 
age, the zealous among their priesthood have 
brought over their choicest inspiration, fetching 
it with their own hands from the fountain head, 
in certain bladders, and disploding it among the 
sectaries in all nations; who did, and do, and 
ever will, daily gasp and pant after it. 

Now, their mysteries and rites wer£ performed 
in this manner. It is well known among the 
learned, that the virtuoso's of former ages had a 
contrivance for carrying and preserving winds in 
casks or barrels, which was of great assistance 
upon long sea-voyages; and the loss of so useful 
an art at present is very much to be lamentec 
although, I know not how, with great negli- 
gence omitted by Pancirollus # . It was an ir 
vention ascribed to JEolus himself, from whor 
this sect is denominated; and who, in honour of 
their founder's memory, have to this day preser- 
ved great numbers of those barrels, whereof they 

* An author who writ de artibus perditis, &c. of arts 
1 ost, and of arts invented. 



A TALE OF A TUB. 171 

fix one in each of their temples, first beating out 
the top. Into this barrel, upon solemn days, 
the priest enters; where, having before duly pre- 
pared himself by the methods already described, 
a secret funnel is also conveyed from his poste- 
riors to the bottom of the barrel, which admits 
new supplies of inspiration from a northern chink 
or crany. Whereupon you behold him swell 
immediately to the shape and size of his vessel. 
In this posture he disembogues whole tempests 
upon his auditory, as the spirit from beneath 
gives him utterance, which, issuing ex adytis etpe- 
netralibus, is not perfqrmed without much pain 
and gri pings. And the wind, in breaking forth, 
deals with his face as it does with that of the 
sea; first blackening, then wrinkling, and at last 
bursting it into a foam*. It is ki this guise the 
sacred JEolist delivers his oraculor belches to his 
panting disciples; of whom some are greedily 
gaping after the sanctified breath; others are all 
the while hymning out the praises of the winds-, 
and, gently wafted to and fro by their own hum- 
ming, do thus represent the soft breezes of their 
deities appeased. 

It is from this custom of the priests, that some 
authors maintain these JEolists to have been ve- 

* This is an exact description of the changes made in 
the face by enthusiastic preachers. 

l 2 



I 



17'2 A TALE OF A TUB. 

ry ancient in the world; because the delivery of 
their mysteries, which I have just now mention- 
ed, appears exactly the same with that of other 
ancient oracles, whose inspirations were owing 
to certain subterraneous effluviums of wind, deli- 
vered with the same pain to the priest, and much 
about the same influence on the people. It is 
true indeed, that these were frequently managed 
and directed by female officers, whose organs 
were understood to be better disposed for the ad- 
mission of those oracular gusts, as entering an 
parsing up through a receptacle of greater capa- 
city, and causing also a pruriency by the way, 
such as, with due management, hath been refi- 
ned from carnal into a spiritual ecstacy. And, 
to strengthen this profound conjecture, it is far- 
ther insisted, that this custom of female priests* 
is kept up still in certain refined colleges of our 
modern iEolists, who are agreed to receive their 
inspiration, derived through the receptacle afore- 
said, like their ancestors, the Sibyls. 

And whereas the mind of man, when he gives 
the spur and bridle to his thoughts, doth never 
stop, but naturally sallies out into both extremes 
of high and low, of good and evil; his first flight 
of fancy commonly transports him to ideas of 
what is most perfect, finished, and exalted; till 

* Quakers, who suffer their women to preach and pray. 



A TALE OF A TUB. 173 



having soared out of his own reach and sight, 
not well perceiving how near the frontiers of 
height and depth border upon each other, with 
the same course and wing, he falls down plum 
into the lowest bottom of things; like one who 
travels the east into the west; or like a strait line 
drawn by its own length into a circle. Whether 
a tincture of malice in our natures makes us 
fond of furnishing every bright idea with its re- 
verse; or whether reason, reflecting upon the 
sum of things, can, like the sun, serve only to en- 
lighten one half of the globe, leaving the other 
half by necessity under shade and darkness; or 
whether fancy, flying up to the imagination of 
what is highest and best, becomes over-short, 
and spent, and weary, and suddenly falls, like a 
dead bird of paradise, to the ground; or whe- 
ther, after all these metaphysical conjectures, i 
have not entirely missed the true reason; the 
proposition, however, which hath stood me in so 
much circumstance, is altogether true, that as 
the most uncivilized parts of mankind have some 
way or other climbed up into the conception of 
a god, or supreme power, so they have seldom 
forgot to provide their fears with certain ghast- 
ly notions ♦ which, instead of better, have served 
them pretty tolerably for a devil. And this pro- 
ceeding seems to be natural enough: for it is 
with men, whose imaginations are lifted up very 

i3 



174 A TALE OF A TUB. 

high, after the same rate as with those whose 
bodies are so; that as they are delighted with 
the advantage of a nearer contemplation up- 
wards, so they are equally terrified with the dis- 
mal prospect of the precipice below. Thus, in 
the choice of a devil, it hath been the usual me- 
thod of mankind, to single out some being, ei- 
ther in act, or in vision, which was in most anti- 
pathy to the god they had framed. Thus also 
the sect of iEolists possessed themselves with a 
dread, and horror, and hatred of two malignant 
natures, betwixt whom and the deities they ado- 
red, perpetual enmity was established. The 
first of these was the Camelion* ', sworn foe to 
inspiration, who, in scorn, devoured large influ- 
ences of their god, without refunding the small- 
est blast by eructation. The other was a huge 
terrible monster, called Moulinavent, who, with 
four strong arms, waged eternal battle with all 
their divinities, dextrously turning to avoid their 
blows, and repay them with interest. 

Thus furnished, and set out with gods, as well 
as devils, was the renowned sect of iEolists; 
which makes at this day so illustrious a figure 
in the world, and whereof that polite nation of 

* I do not well understand what the author aims at 
here* any more than by the terrible monster mentioned in 
the following lines, called Moulinavefit, which is the 
French name for a wind-mill. 



I 



A TALE OF A TUB. 175 



Laplanders, are, beyond all doubt, a most au- 
thentic branch: of whom I therefore cannot, 
without injustice, here omit to make honourable 
mention; since they appear to be so closely alli- 
ed, in point of interest, as well as inclinations, 
with their brother iEolists among us, as not on- 
ly to buy their winds by wholesale from the same 
merchants, but also to retail them after the same 
rate and method, and to customers much alike. 

Now, whether the system here delivered was 
wholly compiled by Jack; or, as some writers 
believe, rather copied from the original at Del- 
phos, with certain additions and emendations 
suited to the times and circumstances; I shall 
not absolutely determine. This I may. affirm, 
that Jack gave it at least a new turn, and form- 
ed it into the same dress and model as it lies de- 
duced by me. 

I have long sought after this opportunity of 
doing justice to a society of men, for whom I 
have a peculiar honour; and whose opinions, as 
well as practices, have been extremely misrepre- 
sented and traduced by the malice or ignorance 
of their adversaries. For I think it one of the 
greatest and best of human actions, to remove 
prejudices, and place things in their truest and 
fairest light; which I therefore boldly under- 
take, without any regards of my own, beside the 
conscience, the honour, and the thanks. 

i 4 



176 A TALE OF A TUB. 



SECT. IX. 

A DIGRESSION CONCERNING THE ORIGINAL^ 

THE USE, AND IMPROVEMENT OF 

MADNESS IN A COMMONWEALTH. 



NOR shall it any wise detract from the just 
reputation of this famous sect, that its rise and 
institution are owing to such an author as I have 
described Jack to be; a person whose intellect- 
uals were overturned, and his brain shaken out 
of its natural position; which we commonly sup- 
pose to be a distemper, and call by the name of 
madness, or phrensy. For, if we take a survey of 
the greatest actions that have been performed 
in the world under the influence of single men; 
which are, the establishment of new empires by 
conquest; the advance and progress of new schemes 
in philosophy ; and the contriving, as well as the 
propagating of new religions; we shall find the 
authors of them all to have been persons whose 
natural reason had admitted great revolutions 
from their diet, their education, the prevalency 



A DIGRESSION CONCERNING MADNESS. 177 

of some certain temper, together with the par- 
ticular influence of air and climate. Besides, 
there is something individual in human minds, 
that easily kindles at the accidental approach 
and collision of certain circumstances, which, 
though of paultiy and mean appearance, do 
often flame out into the greatest emergencies of 
life. For great turns are not alsvays given by 
strong hands, but by lucky adaption, and at pro- 
per seasons. And it is of no import where the 
fire was kindled, if the vapour has once got up 
into the brain. For the upper region of man is 
furnished like the middle region of the air; the 
materials are formed from causes of the widest 
difference, yet produce at last the same sub- 
stance and effect. Mists arise from the earth, 
steams from dunghills, exhalations from the sea, 
and smoke from fire; yet all clour's are the same 
in composition, as well as consequences; and 
the fumes issuing from a jakes, will furnish as 
comely and useful a vapour, as incense from an 
altar. Thus far, I suppose, will easily be grant- 
ed me; and then it will follow, that as the face 
of nature never produces rain, but when it is 
overcast and disturbed; so human understand- 
ing, seated in the brain, must be troubled and 
overspread by vapours, ascending from the low- 
er faculties, to water the invention, and render 
it fruitful. Now, although these vapours (as it 
l 5 



178 A TALE OF A TUB. 

hath been already said) are of as various origin- 
al, as those of the skies; yet the crops they pro- 
duce, differ both in kind and degree, merely 
according to the soil. I will produce two in- 
stances, to prove and explain what I am now 
advancing. 

A certain great prince raised a mighty army, 
filled his coffers with infinite treasures, provided 
an invincible fleet; and all this, without giving 
the least part of his design to his greatest mini- 
sters, or his nearest favourites*. Immediately 
the whole world was alarmed; the neighbouring 
crowns in trembling expectations, towards what 
point the storm would burst; the small politi- 
cians every where forming profound conjectures. 
Some believed, he had laid a scheme for univer- 
sal monarchy ;.. others, after much insight, deter- 
mined the matter to be a project for pulling 
down the Pope, and setting up the reformed 
religion, which had once been his own. Some 
again> of a deeper sagacity, sent him into Asia, 
to subdue the Turk, and recover Palestine. In 
the midst of all these projects and preparations, 
a certain state-mrgeonf, gathering the nature of 
the disease by these symptoms, attempted the 
cure; at one blow performed the operation, 
broke the bag, and out flew the vapour. Nor 

* This was Harry the Great of France. 

f Kavillac, who stabbed Henry the Great in his coach. 



A DIGRESSION CONCERNING MADNESS. 379 

did any thing want to render it a complete re- 
medy, only that the prince unfortunately hap- 
pened to die in the performance. Now, is the 
reader exceeding curious to learn, from whence 
this vapour took its rise, which had so long set 
the nations at a gaze? what secret wheel, what 
hidden spring, could put into motion so won- 
derful an engine ? It was afterwards discovered, 
that the movement of this whole machine had 
been directed by an absent female, whose eyes 
had raised a protuberancy, and, before emission, 
she was removed into an enemy's country. 
What should an unhappy prince do in such tick- 
lish circumstances as these ? He tried in vain 
the poet's never-failing receipt of corpora qua- 
que: For, 

Idque petit corpus mens, made est saucia amore ; 
Unde feritur, eo tendit, gestitque coire. Lucr, 

Having to no purpose used all peaceable en- 
deavours, the collected part of the semen, raised 
and inflamed, became adust, converted to choler, 
turned head upon the spinal duct, and ascended, 
to the brain. The very same principle that in- 
fluences a bully to break the windows of a whore 
who has jilted him, naturally stirs up a great 
prince to raise mighty armies, and dream of no- 
thing but sieges, battles, and victories. 



180 A TALE OF A TUB. 



-Teterrimi belli 



Causa- 



The other instance is, what I have read some- 
where in a very ancient author, of a mighty 
king # , who, for the space of above thirty years, 
amused himself to take and lose towns ; beat ar- 
mies, and be beaten; drive princes out of their 
dominions; fright children from their bread and 
butter; burn, lay waste, plunder, dragoon, mas- 
sacre subject and stranger, friend and foe, male 
and female. It is recorded, that the philoso- 
phers of each country were in grave dispute up- 
on causes natural, moral, and political, to find 
out where they should assign an original solu- 
tion of this phenomenon. At last the vapour or 
spirit which animated the hero's brain, being in 
perpetual circulation, seized upon that region of 
the human body, so renowned for furnishing the 
zibeta occidentalism, and gathering there into a 
tumour, left the rest of the world for that time 

* This is meant of the present French King, Lewis XIV. 

f Paracelsus, who was so famous for chymistry, tried 
an experiment upon human excrement, to make a per- 
fume of it ; which when he had brought to perfection, he 
called zibeta occidentalism or western civet, the back parts 
of man (according to his division mentioned by the au- 
thor, p. 361.) being the west. 



A DIGRESSION CONCERNING MADNESS. 181 

in peace. Of such mighty consequence it is, 
where those exhalations fix; and of so little, 
from whence they proceed. The same spirits, 
which, in their superior progress, would conquer 
a kingdom, descending upon the anus, conclude 
in cijistula. 

Let us next examine the great introducers of 
new schemes in philosophy, and search till we 
can find from what faculty of the soul the dispo- 
sition arises in mortal man, of taking it into his 
head to advance new systems, with such an eag- 
er zeal, in things agreed on all hands impossible 
to be known; from what seeds this disposition 
springs, and to what quality of human nature 
these grand innovators have been indebted for 
their number of disciples: because it is plain, 
that several of the chief among them, both an- 
cient and modern, were usually mistaken by their 
adversaries, and indeed by all, except their own 
followers, to have been persons crazed, or out 
of their wits; having generally proceeded, in the 
common course of their words and actions, by a 
method very different from the vuigar dictates 
of unrefined reason ; agreeing, for the most part, 
in their several models, with their present un- 
doubted successors in the academy of modern 
Bedlam-, (whose merits and principles I shall 
farther examine in due place.) Of this kind 



182 A TALE OF A TUB. 

were Epicurus, Diogenes, Apollonius, Lucretius, 
Paracelsus, Des Cartes, and others; who, if they 
were now in the world, tied fast, and separate 
from their followers, would, in this our undistin- 
guishing age, incur manifest danger of phlebo- 
tomy, and zvhips, and chains, and dark chambers, 
and straw. For what man, in the natural state 
or course of thinking, did ever conceive it in his 
power to reduce the notions of all mankind ex- 
actly to the same length, and breadth, and 
height of his own? Yet this is the first humble 
and civil design of all innovators in the empire 
of reason. Epicurus modestly hoped, that, one 
time or other, a certain fortuitous concourse of 
all men's opinions, after perpetual justlings, the 
sharp with the smooth, the light and the heavy, 
the round and the square, would, by certain 
clinamina, unite in the notions of atoms and void, 
as these did in the originals of all things. Car- 
tesius reckoned to see, before he died, the senti- 
ments of all philosophers, like so many lesser 
stars in his romantic system, wrapped and drawn 
within his own vortex. Now, 1 would gladly be 
informed, how it is possible to account for such 
imaginations as these in particular men, without 
recourse to my phenomenon of vapours, ascend- 
ing from the lower faculties to overshadow the 
brain, and there distilling into conceptions, for 






A DIGRESSION CONCERNING MADNESS. 183 

which the narrowness of our mother-tongue has 
not yet assigned any other name besides that of 
madness, or phrensy. Let us therefore now con- 
jecture, how it comes to pass, that none of these 
great prescribers do ever fail providing them- 
selves and their notions with a number of im- 
plicit disciples. And, I think, the reason is easy 
to be assigned; for there is a peculiar string in 
the harmony of human understanding, which in 
several individuals is exactly of the same tuning. 
This if you can dextrously screw up to its right 
key, and then strike gently upon it; whenever 
you have the good fortune to light among those 
of the same pitch, they will, by a secret neces- 
sary sympathy, strike exactly at the same time. 
And in this one circumstance lies all the skill 
or luck of the matter: for if you chance to jar 
the string among those who are either above or 
below your own height; instead of subscribing 
to your doctrine, they will tie you fast, call you 
mad, and feed you with bread and water. It is 
therefore a point of the nicest conduct, to dis- 
tinguish and adapt this noble talent with respect 
to the differences of persons and of times. Ci- 
cero understood this very well, when writing to 
a friend in England, with a caution, among 
other matters, to beware of being cheated by o,ur 
hackney-coachmen, (who, it seems, in those days 



184 A TALE Or A TUB. 

were as arrant rascals as they are now), has 
these remarkable words : Est quod gaudeas te in 
ista loca venisse, ubi aliquid sapere viderere*. 
For, to speak a bold truth, it is a fatal miscar- 
riage, so ill to order affairs, as to pass for a fool 
in one company, when in another you might be 
treated as a philosopher. Which I desire some 
certain gentlemen of my acquaintance to lay up 
in their hearts, as a very seasonable innuendo* 

This, indeed, was the fatal mistake of that 
worthy gentleman, my most ingenious friend, 
Mr Wotton; a person, in appearance, ordain- 
ed for great designs, as well as performances. 
Whether you will consider his notions or his 
looks, surely no man ever advanced into the 
public with fitter qualifications of body and 
mind, for the propagation of a new religion. 
Oh, had those happy talents, misapplied to vain 
philosophy, been turned into their proper chan- 
nels of dreams and visions, where distortion of 
mind and countenance are of such sovereign 
use; the base detracting world would not then 
have dared to report, that something is amiss, 
that his brain hath undergone an unlucky shake; 
which even his brethren modernists themselves, 
like ungrates, do whisper so loud, that it reaches 
up to the very garret I am now writing in. 

* Epist. ad Fam. Trebat. 



A DIGRESSION CONCERNING MADNESS. 185 

Lastly, Whosoever pleases to look into the 
fountains of enthusiasm, from whence, in all 
ages, have eternally proceeded such fattening 
streams, will find the spring-head to have been 
as troubled and muddy as the current. Of such 
great emolument is a tincture of this vapour, 
which the world calls madness, that, without its 
help, the world would not only be deprived of 
those two great blessings, conquests and systems, 
but even all mankind would unhappily be re- 
duced to the same belief in things invisible* 

Now, the former postulatum being held, that 
it is of no import from what originals this va- 
pour proceeds, but either in what anglesit strikes, 
and spreads over the understanding, or upon 
what species of brain it ascends; it will be a very 
delicate point, to cut the feather, and divide the 
several reasons to a nice and curious reader, 
how this numerical difference in the brain can 
produce effects of so vast a difference from the 
same vapour, as to be the sole point of individu- 
ation between Alexander the Great, Jack of 
Leyden, and Monsieur Des Cartes. The pre- 
sent argument is the most abstracted that ever I 
engaged in; it strains my faculties to their high- 
est stretch: and I desire the reader to attend 
with utmost perpensity; for I now proceed to 
unravel this knotty point. 



186 A TALE OF A TUB. 

There is in mankind a certain* # 



* # % # * '# 



Hie multa 

desiderantur. **##*# 

* * * And this I take to be a clear 
solution of the matter. * 

Having therefore so narrowly passed through 
this intricate difficulty, the reader will, I am 
sure, agree with me in the conclusion, that if 
the moderns mean by madness only a disturbance 
or transposition of the brain, by force of certain 
vapours issuing up from the lower faculties, 
then has this madness been the parent of all those 
mighty revolutions, that have happened in em- 
pire, in philosophy and in religion. For the 
brain, in its natural position and state of sere- 
nity, disposeth its owner to pass his life in the 
common forms, without any thoughts of subdu- 
ing multitudes to his own power, his reasons, or 
his visions: and the more he shapes his under- 
standing by the pattern of human learning, the 
less he is inclined to form parties after his par- 
ticular notions; because that instructs him in 

* Here is another defect in the manuscript; but I think 
the author did wisely, and that the matter which thus 
strained his faculties, was not worth a solution; and it 
were well if all metaphysical cobweb problems were uo 
otherwise answered. 



A DIGRESSION CONCERNING MADNESS. 1B7 

his private infirmities, as well as in the stubborn 
ignorance of the people. But when a man's 
fancy gets astride on his reason; when imagina- 
tion is at cuffs with the senses; and common 
understanding, as well as common sense, is kick- 
ed out of doors ; the first proselyte he makes, is 
himself; and when that is once compassed, the 
difficulty is not so great in bringing over others; 
a strong delusion always operating from without, 
as vigorously as from within. For cant and vi- 
sion are, to the ear and the eye, the same that 
tickling is to the touch. Those entertainments 
and pleasures we most value in life, are such as 
dupe and play the wag with the senses. For if 
w r e take an examination of what is generally un- 
derstood by happiness, as it has respect either to 
the understanding or the senses, we shall find 
all its properties and adjuncts will herd under 
this short definition, that it is a perpetual posses- 
sion of being well deceived. And, first, with rela- 
tion to the mind or understanding, it is mani- 
fest, what mighty advantages fiction has over 
truth: and the reason is just at our elbow; be- 
cause imagination can build nobler scenes, and 
produce more wonderful revolutions, than for- 
tune or nature will be at expence to furnish. 
Nor is mankind so much to blame in his choice 
thus determining him, if we consider that the 
debate: merely lies between things past and things 



188 A TALE OF A TUB. 

conceived. And so the question is only this : 
whether things that have place in the imagina- 
tion, may not as properly be said to exist, as 
those that are seated in the memory?- Which 
may be justly held in the affirmative: and very 
much to the advantage of the former; since this 
is acknowledged to be the womb of things, and 
the other allowed to be no more than the grave. 
Again, if we take this definition of happiness, 
and examine it with reference to the senses, it 
will be acknowledged wonderfully adapt. How 
fading and insipid do all objects accost us, that 
are not conveyed in the vehicle of delusion! 
How shrunk is every thing, as it appears in the 
glass of nature ! So that if it were not for the 
assistance of artificial mediums, false lights, re- 
fracted angles, varnish and tinsel, there would 
be a mighty level in the felicity and enjoyments 
of mortal men. If this were seriously consider- 
ed by the world, as I have a certain reason to 
suspect it hardly will, men would no longer rec- 
kon among their high points of wisdom, the art 
of exposing weak sides, and publishing infirmi- 
ties: an employment, in my opinion, neither 
better nor worse than that of unmasking; which, 
I think, has never been allowed fair usage, either 
in the world, or the play-house. 

In the proportion that credulity is a more 
peaceful possession of the mind, than curiosity. 



'I 



A DIGRESSION CONCERNING MADNESS. 189 

so far preferable is that wisdom which converses 
about the surface, to that pretended philosophy 
which enters into the depth of things, and then 
comes gravely back with informations and dis- 
coveries, that in the inside they are good for no- 
thing. The two senses to which all objects first 
address themselves, are the sight and the touch. 
These never examine farther than the colour, 
! the shape, the size, and whatever other qualities 
f dw r ell, or are drawn by art upon the outward of 
bodies; and then comes reason officiously with 
tools for cutting, and opening, and mangling, 
and piercing, offering to demonstrate, that they 
are not of the same consistence quite through. 
Now, I take all this to be the last degree of per- 
verting nature; one of whose eternal laws it is, 
to put her best furniture forward. And there- 
fore, in order to save the charges of all such ex- 
pensive anatomy for the time to come, I do here 
think fit to inform the reader, that in such con- 
clusions as these, reason is certainly in the right; 
and that in the most corporeal beings which 
have fallen under my cognisance, the outside 
hath been infinitely preferable to the in. Where- 
of I have been farther convinced from some late 
experiments. Last week I saw a woman flayed, 
and you will hardly believe how much it altered 
her person for the worse. Yesterday I ordered 
the carcase of a beau to be stripped in my pre- 



190 A TALE OF A TUB. 

sence; when we were all amazed to find so ma- 
ny unsuspected faults under one suit of cloaths. 
Then T laid open his brain, his heart, and his 
spleen. But I plainly perceived, at every opera- 
tion, that the farther we proceeded, we found 
the defects increase upon us in number and 
bulk. From all which I justly formed this con- 
clusion to myself, that whatever philosopher or 
projector can find out an art to solder and patch 
up the flaws and imperfections of nature, will 
deserve much better of mankind, and teach us a 
more useful science than that so much in present 
esteem, of widening and exposing them, like 
him who held anatomy to be the ultimate end of 
physic. And he w r hose fortunes and dispositions 
have placed him in a convenient station to en- 
joy the fruits of this noble art; he that can, 
with Epicurus, content his ideas w T ith the films 
and images, that fly off upon his senses from the 
superficies of things; such a man, truly wise, 
creams off nature, leaving the sour and the dregs 
for philosophy and reason to lap up. This is the 
sublime and re6ned point of felicity, called the 
possession of being well deceived; the serene peace- 
ful state of being a fool among knaves. 

But to return to tnadness: it is certain, that, 
according to the system I have above deduced, 
every species thereof proceeds from a redundancy 
of vapours; therefore, as some kinds of phrtnsy 



A DIGRESSION CONCERNING MADNESS. 19 1 

- ; ••; , - .. , , . ,, , ., «w: 

give double strength to the sinews, so there are 
of other species, which add vigour, and life, and 
spirit to the brain. Now, it usually happens, 
that these active spirits, getting possession of 
the brain, resemhle those that haunt other waste 
and empty dwellings, which, for want of busi- 
ness, either vanish, and carry away a piece of 
the house, or else stay at home, and fling it all 
out of the windows. By which are mystically 
displayed, the two principal branches of mad- 
?iess-, and which some philosophers, not consi- 
dering so well as I, have mistaken to be differ- 
ent in their causes; over-hastily assigning the 
first to deficiency, and the other to redundance. 

I think it therefore manifest, from what I 
i have here advanced, that the main point of skill 
and address is, to furnish employment for this 
redundancy of vapour, and prudently to adjust 
the season of it; by which means, it may cer- 
tainly become of cardinal and catholic emolu- 
ment in a commonwealth. Thus one man chu- 
sing a proper conjecture, leaps into a gulf, from 
thence proceeds a hero, and is called the saver 
of his country : another atchieves the same en- 
terprise; but, unlucky timing it, has left the 
brand of madness fixed as a reproach upon his 
memory. Upon so nice a distinction are we 
taught to repeat the name of Curtius, with reve- 
rence and love; that of Empedocles, with hatred 






1§2 A TALE OF A TUB. 






and contempt. Thus also it is .usually conceiv- 
ed, that the elder Brutus only personated the 
fool and madman for the good of the public. 
But this was nothing else than a redundancy of 
the same vapour Jong misapplied, called by the 
Latins, ingenium par negotiis* ; or, to translate 
it as nearly as I can, a sort ofphrenzy, never in 
its right element, till you take it up in the busi- 
ness of the state. 

Upon all which, and many other reasons of 
equal weight, though not equally curious, I do 
here gladly embrace an opportunity I have long 
sought for, of recommending it as a very noble 
undertaking to Sir Edward Seymour, Sir Chris- 
topher Musgrave, Sir John Bowls, John How, 
Esq; and other patriots concerned, that they 
would move for leave to bring in a bill for ap- 
pointing commissioners to inspect into Bedlam, 
and the parts adjacent; who shall be impowered 
to send for persons, papers, and records; to ex- 
amine into the merits and qualifications of every 
student and professor; to observe with utmost 
exactness their several dispositions and behavi- 
our; by which means duly distinguishing and 
adapting their talents, they might produce ad- 
mirable instruments for the several offices in a 

• Tacit. 



A DIGRESSION CONCERNING MADNESS. 193 

state f # # # civil and military; proceeding in 
such methods as I shall here humbly propose. 
And I hope the gentle reader will give some 
allowance to my great solicitudes in this im- 
portant affair, upon account of the high esteem 
I ha ve bone that honourable society, whereof 
I had some time the happiness to bean unworthy 
member. 

Is any student tearing his straw in piece-meal, 
swearing and blaspheming, biting his grate, 
foaming at the mouth, and emptying his piss- 
pot in the spectators faces ? Let the Right Wor- 
shipful the Commissioners of Inspection give him 
a regiment of dragoons, and send him into Flan- 
ders among the rest. Is another eternally talking, 
sputtering, gaping, bawling, in a sound without 
period or article? What wonderful talents are 
here mislaid! Let him be furnished immediately 
with a green bag and papers, and three-pence J in 
his pocket, and away with him to Westminster- 
hall. You will find a third gravely taking the 
dimensions of his kennel; a person of foresight 
and insight, though kept quite in the dark ; for 
why, like Moses, ecce cornuta erat ejus fades §. 

f Ecclesiastical. Hawkes. 

X A lawyer's coach-hire, when four together, from any 
of the inns of court to Westminster. 

§ Cornutus is either horned or shining; and by this* 
term Moses is described in the vulgar Latin of the Bible* 

K 




1«)4 A TALE OF A TUB, 

■ ' ■ . . ' ■■ " m 

He walks duly in pace; intreats your penny 
with due gravity and ceremony ; talks much of 
hard times, and taxes, and the whore of Babylon ; 
bars up the wooden window of his cell con- 
stantly at eight o'clock ; dreams of fire, and 
shop-lifters, and court-customers, and privileged- 
places. Now, what a figure would all these 
acquirements amount to, if the owner were sent 
into the city among his brethren ? Behold a fourth, 
in much and deep conversation with himself; 
biting his thumbs at proper junctures ; his coun- 
tenance checkered with business and design; 
sometimes walking very fast, with his eyes Bail- 
ed to a paper that he holds in his hands ; a great 
saver of time; somewhat thick of hearing; very 
short of sight, but more of memory ; a ma; 
ever in haste, a great hatcher and breeder 
business, and excellent at the famous art 
zohispering nothing ; a huge idolater of monosyl- 
lables and procrastination ; so ready to give his 
word to every body, that he never keeps it; one 
that has got the common meaning of words, but 
an admirable retainer of the sound; extremely 
subject to the looseness, for his occasions are 
perpetually calling him away. If you approach 
his grate in his familiar intervals, Sir, says he, 
give me a penny, and Til sing you a song ; but 
give me the penny first. (Hence comes the com- 
mon saying, and commoner practice, of parting 



5 



A DIGRESSION CONCERNING MADNESS. 195 

with money for a song.) What a complete 
system of court-skill is here described in every 
branch of it, and all utterly lost with wrong 
application! Accost the hole of another kennel, 
(first stopping your nose), you will behold a surly, 
gloomy, nasty, slovenly mortal, raking in his own 
dung, and dabbling in his urine. The best part 
of his diet, is the reversion of his own ordure; 
which, expiring into steams, whirls perpetually 
about, and at last reinfunds. His complexion 
is of a dirty yellow, with a thin scattered beard, 
exactly agreeable to that of his diet upon its 
first declination ; like other insects, who having 
their birth and education in an excrement, from 
thence borrow their colour and their smell. The 
student of this apartment is very sparing of 
his words, but somewhat over liberal of his breath : 
he holds his hand out, ready to receive your 
penny ; and immediately upon receipt, withdraws 
to his former occupations. Now, is it not 
amazing, to think, the society of Warwick-lane 
should have no more concern for the recovery 
of so useful a member, who, if one may judge 
from these appearances, would become the 
greatest ornament to that illustrious body ? 
Another student struts up fiercely to your teeth, 
puffing with his lips, half squeezing out his eyes, 
and very graciously holds you out his haad to 
x 'I 



1Q6 A TALE OF A TUB. 

kiss. The keeper desires you not to be afraid of 
this professor, for he will do you no hurt. To 
him alone is allowed the liberty of the anticham- 
ber ; and the orator of the place gives you to 
understand, that this solemn person is a taylor, 
run mad with pride. This considerable student 
is adorned with many other qualities, upon which 

at present I shall not further enlarge ■ ■■■■■ — 

Hark in your ear* lam strangely 

mistaken, if all his address, his motions, and his 
airs, would not then be very natural, and in 
their proper element. 

I shall not descend so minutely, as to insist 
upon the vast number of beaux, jidlers, poets, and 
politicians, that the world might recover by such 
a reformation. But what is more material, 
besides the clear gain redounding to the com- 
monwealth, by so large an acquisition of persons 
to employ, whose talents and acquirements, if 
I may be so bold to affirm it, are now buried, 
or at least misapplied ; it would be a mighty 
advantage accuring to the public from this 
inquiry, that all these would very much excel! 
and arrive at great perfection in their several 

* I cannot conjecture what the author means here, or 
how this chasm could be tilled, though it is capable *>f 
more than one interpretation. 



A DIGRESSION CONCERNING MADNESS. 197 

kinds; which, I think, is manifest from what 
I have already shewn, and shall inforce by this 
one plain instance, that even I myself, the author 
of these momentous truths, am a person whose 
imaginations are hardmouthed, and exceedingly 
disposed to run away with his reason, which I 
have observed from long experience, to be a very 
light rider, and easily shaken off: upon which 
account, my friends will never trust me alone 
without a solemn promise to vent my speculations, 
in this or the like manner, for the universal 
benefit of human kind; which perhaps the gentle, 
courteous, and candid reader, brimfull of that 
modem charity and tenderness usually annexed 
to his office, will be very hardly persuaded t© 
believe. 



K 3 



198 A TALE OF A TUB. 



SECT. X. 



A FURTHER DIGRESSION*. 



IT is an unanswerable argument of a very 
refined age, the wonderful civilities that have 
passed of late years, between the nation of 
authors, and that of readers. There can hardly 
pop out a play, a pamphlet, or a poem, without 
a preface full of acknowledgment to the world 
for the general reception and applause they have 
given it ; which the Lord knows where, or when, 
or how, or from whom it receivedf. In due 
deference to so laudable a custom, I do her 



* This section has in former editions been intitlecl, 
JL Tale of a Tub; but the tale not being continued till 
Section 11, and this being only a further digression, no 
apology can be thought necessary for making the title cor- 
respond with the contents. Hatches. - 

f This is literally true, as we may observe in the pre- 
faces to most plays, poems, &c. 



t 

: 



A FURTHER DIGRESSION. 199 

return my humble thanks to his Majesty, and 
both houses of parliament ; to the Lords of the 
King's Most Honourable Privy Council; to the 
reverend the judges ; to the clergy, and gentry, 
and yeomanry of this land : but, in a more 
especial manner, to my worthy brethren and 
friends at Will's coffee-house, and Gresham-college, 
and Warzcick-lane, and Moor-fields, and Scotland* 
yard, and WestminsUr-iudl, and Guild-hall : in 
short, to all inhabitants and retainers whatsoever, 
either in court, or church, or camp, or city, or 
country, for their generous and universal accept- 
ance of this divine treatise. I accept their ap- 
probation and good opinion with extreme gra- 
titude ; and, to the utmost of my poor capacity, 
shall take hold of all opportunities to return the 
obligation. 

I am also happy, that fate has flung me into 
so blessed an age for the mutual felicity of 
booksellers and authors, whom I may safely 
affirm to be at this day the two only satisfied 
parties in England. Ask an author, how his last 
piece has succeeded: Why, truly, he thanks his 
stars, the world has been very favourable, and 
he has not the least reason to complain. And yet, 
by G — , he writ it in a week, at bits and starts, 
when he would steal an hour from his urgent affairs; 
as it is a hundred to one, you may see farther in 
the preface, to which he refers you ; and for the 
K 4 



£00 A TALE OF A TUB. 

rest, to the bookseller. There you go as a 
customer, and make the same question : He 
blesses his God, the thing takes wonderfully ; he is 
just printing the second edition, and has but three 
left inhis shop. You beat down the price ; Sir, we 
shall not differ ; and, in hopes of your custom 
another time, lets you have it as reasonable as 
you please : And, pray send as many of your 
acquaintance as you will ; I shall, upon your 
account, furnish them all at the same rate. 

Now, it is not well enough considered, to 
what accident and occasions the world is indebted 
for the greatest part of those noble writings 
which hourly start up to entertain it. If it were 
not for a rainy day, a drunken vigil, a fit of the 
spleen, a course of physic, a sleepy Sunday, an ih 
run at dice, a long taylor*s bill, a beggars purse, 
a factious head, a hot sun, costive diet, want o, 
books, and a just contempt of learning; but for 
these events, I say, and some others too long to 
recite, (especially a prudent neglect of taking 
brimstone inwardly), 1 doubt the number of 
authors, and of writings, would dwindle away 
to a degree most woful to behold. To confirm 
this opinion, hear the words of the famous 
Troglodyte philosopher. It is certain, said he, 
some grains of folly are of course annexed as part 
of the composition of human nature ; only the 
choice is left us, whether voe please to wear them 



> 






A FURTHER DIGRESSION. 201 

inlaid or imbossed : and we need not go very far 
to seek how that is usually determined, when we 
remember, it is with human faculties as with 
liquors, the lightest will be ever at the top. 

There is in this famous island of Britain, a 
certain paultry scribler, very voluminous, whose 
character the reader cannot wholly be a stranger 
to. He deals in a pernicious kind of writings, 
called second parts, and usually passes under the 
name of the author of the first. I easily foresee, 
that as soon as I Jay down my pen, this nimble 
operator will have stolen it, and treat me as inhu- 
manely as he hath already done Dr. Blackmore, 
L 7 Estrange, and many others who shall here be 
nameless. I therefore fly for justice and relief, 
into the hands of that great rectifier of saddles*, 
and lover of mankind, Dr. Bentley, begging he 
will take this enormous grievance into his most 
modern consideration : and if it should so happen, 
that the furniture of an ass, in the shape of a 
second part, must for my sins be clapped by a 
mistake upon my back ; that he will immediately 
please, in the presence of the world, to lighten 
me of the burthen, and take it home to his own 
house, till the true beast thinks fit to call for it. 

In the mean time, I do here give this public 

* Alluding to the trite phrase, Place the saddle on 
■the right horse. Hatches. 

K 5 



£02 A TALE OF A TUB. 

notice, that my resolutions are to circumscribe 
within this discourse, the whole stock of matter 
I have been so many years providing. Since 
my vein is once opened, I am content to exhaust 
it all at a runinng, for the peculiar advantage of 
my dear country, and for the universal benefit of 
mankind. Therefore hospitably considering the 
number of my guests, they shall have my whole 
entertainment at a meal ; and I scorn to set up 
the leavings in the cup-board. What the guest 
cannot eat, may be given to the poor ; and the 
dogs under the table may gnaw the hones*. This 
I understand for a more generous proceeding, 
than to turn the company's stomach, by inviting 
them again to-morrow to a scurvy meal of scraps. 
If the reader fairly considers the strength of 
what I have advanced in the foregoing section, I 
am convinced it will produce a wonderful revolu- 
tion in his notions and opinions ; and he will 
be abundantly better prepared to receive and to 
relish the concluding part of this miraculous 
treatise. Readers may be divided into three 
classes ; the superficial, the ignorant, and the 
/earned: and I have with much felicity fitted 
my pen to the genius and advantage of each 

* By dogs the author means common injudicious critics, 
as he explains it himself before, in his Digression upon 
Critics. 



f 



A FURTHER DIGRESSION. 203 

, ^ u »i » « * - ■ ■ . . . . , - 

The superficial reader will be strangely provoked 
to laughter ; which clears the breast and the 
lungs, is sovereign against the spleen, and the 
most innocent of all diuretics. The ignorant 
reader, between whom and the former the dis- 
tinction is extremely nice, will find himself 
disposed to stare ; which is an admirable remedy 
for ill eyes, serves to raise and enliven the spirits, 
and wonderfully helps perspiration. But the reader 
truly learned, chiefly for whose benefit I wake 
when others sleep, and sleep when others wake, 
will here find sufficient matter to employ his 
speculations for the rest of his life. It were much 
to be wished, and I do hereby humbly propose 
for an experiment, that every prince in Chris- 
tendom will take seven of the deepest scholars, 
in his dominions, and shut them up close for seven 
years, insetfewchambers, with a command to write 
seven ample commentaries on this comprehen- 
sive discourse. I shall venture to affirm, that 
whatever difference may be found in their several 
conjectures, they will be all, without the least 
distortion, manifestly deducible from the text. 
Mean time, it is my earnest request, that so 
useftri an undertaking may be entered upon, if 
their Majesties please, with all convenient speed; 
because I have a strong inclination before I 
leave the world, to taste a blessing, which we 
mysterious writers can seldom reach, till we have 

k6 



£04 A TALE OF A TUB. 

gotten into our graves; whether it is, that Fame, 
being a fruit grafted on the body, can hardly 
grow, and much less ripen, till the stock is in the 
earth ; or whether she be a bird of prey, and is 
lured among the rest to pursue after the scent 
of a carcase ; or whether she conceives her trum- 
pet sounds best and farthest, when she stands 
on a tomb, by the advantage of a rising ground, 
and the echo of a hollow vault. 

It is true, Indeed, the republic of dark authors, 
after they once found out this excellent expedient 
of dying* have been peculiarly happy in the 
variety, as w r ell as extent of their reputation. 
For night being the universal mother of things, 
wise philosophers hold all writings to be fruitful 
in the proportion they are dark ; and therefore 
the true illuminated # (that is to say, the darkest 
of all) have met with such numberless commen- 
tators, whose scholastic midwifery hath delivered 
them of meanings that the authors themselves 
perhaps never conceived, and yet may very 
justly be allowed the lawful parents of them 4 

* A name of the Rosy crucians.*—— These were fanatic 
alchemists, who, in search after the great secret, had in- 
vented a means altogether proportioned to their end. It 
was a kind of theological philosophy, made up of almost 
equal mixtures of Pagan Platonism, Christian Quietism, 
and the Jewish Cabala. Warburton on the Rape of the 
Lock, 



A FURTHER DIGRESSION. 205 

the words of such writers being like seed, which, 
however scattered at random, when they light 
upon a fruitful, ground, will multiply far beyond 
either the hopes or imagination of the sower *. 

And therefore, in order to promote so useful 
a work, I will here take leave to glance a few 
innuendo's ', that may be of great assistance to 
those sublime spirits, who shall be appointed to 
labour in a universal comment upon this won- 
derful discourse. And, first, I have couched a 
very profound mystery in the number of O's 
multiplied by seven, and divided by nine -f. Also, 
if a devout brother of the Rosy Cross will pray 
fervently for sixty-three mornings, with a lively 
faith, and then transpose certain letters and 
syllables according to prescription, in the second 
and fifth section ; they will certainly reveal into 
a full receipt of the opus magnum. Lastly, 
whoever will be at the pains to calculate the 
whole number of each letter in this treatise, 
and sum up the difference exactly between the 
several numbers, assigning the true natural 
cause for every such difference; the discoveries 

* Nothing is more frequent, than for commentators 
to force interpretations which the author never meant. 

f This is what the Cabalists among the Jews have done 
with the Bible, and pretend to find wonderful myste- 
ries by it. 



206 A TALE OF A TUB. 

in the product will plentifully reward his labour. 
But then he must beware of Bythus and Sige*, 
and be sure not to forget the qualities of Acha- 
moth\ a cujus lacrymis, humect a prodit substantia, 
a risu lucida, a tristitia solida, et a timore mobi/is; 
wherein Eugenius Philalethes f hath committed 
an unpardonable mistake. 

*I was told by an eminent divine, whom I consulted on 
this point, that these two barbarous words, with that f 
Achamoth, and its qualities, as here set down, are quoted 
from Irensus. This he discovered by searching that an- 
cient writer for another quotation of our author; which 
he has placed in the title page, and refers to the book 
and chapter. The curious were very inquisitive, whether 
those barbarous words, basyma cacabasa, &c. are really in 
Irenoeus ; and upon inquiry, it was found they were a sori 
of cant or jargon of certain heretics, and therefore ver; 
properly prefixed to such a book as this of our author. 

f Vid. Anima magica abscondita. 

To the above-mentioned treatise, called Anthroposophia 
Theomagica, there is another annexed, called Anima magi- 
ca abscondita, written by the same author, Vaughan, un- 
der the name of Eugenius Philalethes; but in neither of 
those treatises is there any mention of Achamoth, or its 
qualities: so that this is nothing but amusement, and a 
ridicule of dark, unintelligible writers; only the words, 
a cujus lacrymis, &c. are, as we have said, transcribed 
from Irenseus, though I know not from what part, I be- 
lieve one of the author's designs was, to set curious men 
a hunting through indexes, and inquiring for bucks out 
of the common road. 



; 



A TALE OF A TUB* 207 



SECT 7 . XL 



A TALE OF A TUB* 



AFTER so wide a compass as I have wandered, 
I do now gladly overtake, and close in with my 
subject; and shall henceforth hold on with it an 
even pace to the end of my journey, except 
some beautiful prospect appears within sight of 
my way : whereof though at present I have 
neither warning nor expectation, yet upon such 
an accident, come when it will, I shall beg my 
readers favour and company, allowing me to 
conduct him through it along with myself. 
For in writing, it is as in travelling ; if a man is 
in haste to be at home, (which I acknowledge 
to be none of my case, having never so little 
business as when I am there), if his horse be 
tired with long riding and ill ways, or be 
naturally a jade, I advise him clearly to make 
the straitest and the commonest road, be it ever 
$o dirty, £ut then surely we must own such a 



A TALE OF A TUB. 



man to be a scurvy companion at best: he 
spatters himself and his fellow-travellers at every 
step ; all their thoughts, and wishes, and conver- 
sation, turn entirely upon the subject of their 
journey's end ; and at every splash, and plunge, 
and stumble, they heartily wish one another at 
the devil. 

On the other side, when a traveller and his 
horse are in heart and plight ; when his purse is 
full, and the day before him ; he takes the road 
only where it is clean and convenient ; enter- 
tains his company there as agreeab y as he can : 
but, upon the first occasion, carries them along 
with him to every delightful scene in view, 
whether of art, of nature, or of both ; and if 
they chance to refuse, out of stupidity or wea- 
riness, let them jog on by themselves, and be 

d n'd : he'll overtake them at the next ttfwn ; 

at which arriving, he rides furiously through; 
the men, women, and children, run out to gaze; 
a hundred noisy curs* run barking after him ; of 
which if he honours the boldest with a lash of his 
whip, it is rather out of sport then revenge : but 
should some sourer mongrel dare too near an 
approach, he receives a salute on the chops .by 
an accidental stroke from the courser's heels, 

* By these are meant what the author calls, the true- 
critics* 



A TALE OF A TUB. £0$) 

(nor is any ground lost by the blow), which sends 
him yelping and limping home. 

I now proceed to sum up the singular adven- 
tures of my renowned Jack ; the state of whose 
dispositions and fortunes the careful reader does, 
no doubt, most exactly remember, as I last part- 
ed with them in the conclusion of a former 
section. Therefore his next care must be, from 
two of the foregoing, to extract a scheme of 
notions that may best fit his understanding for 
a true relish of what is to ensue. 

Jack had not only calculated the first revolu- 
tion of his brain so prudently, as to give rise to 
that empidemic sect of JEolists, but succeeding 
also into a new and strange variety of concep- 
tions, the fruitfulness of his imagination led him 
into certain notions, which, although in appear- 
ance very unaccountable, were not without their 
mysteries and their meanings, nor wanted fol- 
lowers to countenance and improve them. I 
shall therefore be extremely careful and exact in 
recounting such material passages of this nature 
as I have been able to collect, either from 
undoubted tradition, or indefatigable reading; and 
shall describe them as graphically as it is possible, 
and as far as notions of that height and latitude 
can be brought within the compass of a pen. 
Nor do I at all question, but they will furnish 
plenty of noble matter for such, whose convert- 



£10 A TALE OF A TtlS. 

ing imaginations dispose them to reduce all 
things into types ; who can make shadows, no 
thanks to the sun ; and then mould them into' 
substances* no thanks to philosophy; whose 
peculiar talent lies in fixing tropes and allegories 
to the letter, and refining what is literal into 
into figure and mystery. 

Jack had provided a fair copy of his father's 
will, ingrossed in form upon a large skin of 
parchment : and resolving to act the part of a 
most dutiful son, he became the fondest creature 
of it imaginable. For though, as I have often 
told the reader, it consisted wholy in certain 
plain, easy directions about the management and 
wearing of their coats, with legacies and penalties 
in case of obedience or neglect ; yet he began 
to entertain a fancy, that the matter was deeper 
and darker, and therefore must needs have a 
great deal more of mystery at the bottom* 
Gentlemen, said he, / will prove this very skin of 
parchment to be meat, drink, and cloth; to be the 
philosopher's stone, and the univeral medicine*. 
In consequence of which raptures, he resolved 
to make use of it in the most necessary, as well 
as the most paultry occasions of life. He had 

• The author here lashes those pretenders to purity, 
who place so much merit in using scripture-phrases on 
all occasions. 



A TALE OF A TUB. 2ll 

a way of working it into any shape he pleased; 
so that it served him for a night-cap when he 
went to bed., and for an umbrella in rainy weather* 
He would lap a piece of it about a sore toe ; 
or when he had fits, burn two inches under his 
nose; or if any thing lay heavy on his stomach, 
scrape off, and swallow as much of the powder 
as would lie on a silver penny : they were all 
infallible remedies. With analogy to these 
refinements, his common talk and conversation 
ran wholly in the phrase of his will * ; and 
he circumscribed the utmost of his eloquence 
within that compass, not daring to let slip a. 
syllable without authority from thence. Once, 
at a strange-house, he was suddenly taken short 
upon an urgent juncture, whereon it may not 
be allowed too particularly to dilate ; and being 
not able to call to mind, with that suddenness 
the occasion required, an authentic phrase for 
demanding the way to the back-side ; he chose 
rather, as the most prudent course, to incur the 
penalty in such cases usually annexed. Neither 
was it possible for the united rhetoric of man- 

* The Protestant dissenters use scripture phrases in 
their serious discourses and composures, more than the 
Church of England men. Accordingly Jack is introduced, 
making his common talk and conversation to run wholly 
in the phrase of his WILL. W. Wottoru 



212 A TALE OF A TUB. 

kind to prevail with him to make himself clean 
again ; because, having consulted the will upon 
this emergency, he met with a passage near the 
bottom (whether foisted in by the transcriber, 
is not known) which seemed to forbid it # . 

He made it a part of his religion, never to say 
grace to his meat f ; nor could all the world per- 
suade him, as the common phrase is, to eat his 
victuals like a Christian $• 

He bore a strange kind of appetite to snap* 

* I cannot guess the author's meaning here, which I 
would be very glad to know, because it seems to be of 
importance. 

Ibid. Incurring the penalty in such cases usually annex- 
ed, wants no explanation. He would not make himself 
clean, because having consulted the will, (i. e. the New Tes- 
tament),'^ met with a passage near the bottom, i. e. in the 
11th verse of the last chapter of the Revelations, u He 
which is filthy, let him be filthy still," which seemed to 
forbid it. Whether foisted in by the transcriber, is added ; 
because this paragraph is wanting in the Alexandrian 
MS. the oldest and most authentic copy of the New 
Testament. Hawkes. 

f The slovenly way of receiving the sacrament among 
the fanatics. 

X This is a common phrase to express eating cleanly, and 
is meant for an invective against that indecent manner 
among some people in receiving the sacrament; so in the 
lines before, which is to be understood of the dissenters 
refusing to kneel at the sacrament. 



A TALE OF A TUB. £13 

dragon*, and to the livid snuffs of a burning 
candle; which he would catch and swallow with 
an agility wonderful to conceive ; and by this 
procedure, maintained a perpetual flame in his 
belly; which issued in a glowing steam from 
both his eyes, as well as his nostrils, and his 
mouth, made his head appear, in a dark night, 
like the scull of an ass, wherein a roguish boy 
had conveyed a farthing candle, to the terror of 
his Majesty's liege subjects. Therefore he made 
use of no other expedient to light himself home ; 
but was wont to say, that a wise man was his own 
lantern. 

He would shut his eyes as he walked along 
the street; and if he happened to bounce his 
head against a post, or fall into the kennel, as 
he seldom missed either to do one or both, he 
would tell the gibing apprentices, who looked 
on, that ht submitted, with entire resignation, as 
to a trip, or biozo of fate, with whom he found by 
long experience, how vain it was either to zorestle 
or to cuffi\ and whoever durst undertake to do 
either, would be sure to come off with aszoingeing 
fall j or a bloody nose. It was ordained, said he, 
some few days before the creation, that my nose 
and this very post should have a rencounter; and 

* I cannot well find out the author's meaning here, unless 
it be the hot, untimely, blind zeal of enthusiasts. 



£14 A TALE OF A TUB. 

therefore Nature thought fit to send us both into 
the world in the same age, and to make us country- 
men and fellow-citizens. Now, had my eyes been 
open, it is very likely, the business might have 
been a great deal worse; for how many a confound- 
ed slip is daily got by man, with all his foresight 
about him ? besides, the eyes of the understanding 
set best, when those of the senses are out of the way ; 
and therefore blind men are observed to tread 
their steps with much more caution, and conduct, 
and judgment, than those who rely with too 
much confidence upon the virtue of the visual 
nerve, which every little accident shakes out of 
order, and a drop or film can wholly disconcert ; 
like a lamp among a pack of roaring bullies, when 
they scower the streets ; exposing its owner, and 
itself, to outward kicks and buffets, which both 
might have escaped, if the vanity of appearing 
would have suffered them to walk in the dark, 
But, farther, if we examine the conduct of these 
boasted lights, it will prove yet a great deal worst 
than their fortune : It is true, I have broke my 
nose against this post, because fortune either forgot* 
or did not think it convenient to tzoitch me by the 
elbow, and give me notice to avoid it. But let 
not this encourage either the present age or posterity 
to trust their noses into the keeping of their eyes, 
zehich may prove the fairest way of losing them 
for good and alt. For, Oye eyes! ye blind guides-' 



A TA1E OF A TUB. 215 

miserable guardians are ye of our frail noses-, ye, 
I say, who fasten upon the Jirst precipice in view, 
and then tow our wretched willing bodies after you, 
to the very brink of destruction : but, alas! that 
brink is rotten, our feet slip, and we tumble down 
prone into a gulph, without one hospitable shrub 
in the way to break the fall ; a fall, to which not 
any nose of mortal make is equal, except that of the 
giant * Laurcalco, who was lord of the silver 
bridge. Most properly, therefore, O eyes! and 
with great justice, may you be compared to those 
foolish lights which conduct men through dirt and 
darkness, till they fall into a deep pit, or a noisome 
bog. 

This I have produced, as a scantling of Jack's 
great eloquence, and the force of his reasoning 
upon such abstruse matters. 

He was, besides, a person of great design and 
improvement in affairs of devotion, having intro- 
duced a new deity, who hath since met with a 
vast number of worshippers ; by some called 
Babel, — by others, Chaos ; who had an ancient 
temple of Gothic structure upon Salisbury- 
plain, famous for its shrine, and celebration by 
pilgrims. 

When he had some roguish trick to play, he 
would down with his knees, up with his eyes, 






Vide Don Quixote. 



£16 A TALE OF A TUB. 



and fall to prayers, though in the midst of the 
kennel*. Then it was that those, who under- 
stood his pranks, would be sure to get far enough 
out of his way ; and whenever curiosity attracted 
strangers to laugh, or to listen, he would of a 
sudden with one hand out with his gear, and piss 
full in their eyes, and with the other all bespatter 
them with mud. 

In winter he went always loose and unbutton- 
ed, and clad as thin as possible, to let in the 
ambient heat; and in summer, lapped himself 
close and thick, to keep it out f. 

In all revolutions of government, he would 
make his court for the office of hangman-gene- 
ralj ; and in the exercise of that dignity, wherein 
he was very dextrous, would make use of no 
other vizor, than a long prayer %. 

He had a tongue so musculous and subtile, that 
he could twist it up into his nose, and deliver a 
strange kind of speech from thence. He was 
also the first in these kingdoms who began to 

* The villanies and cruelties, committed by enthusiasts 
and fanatics among us, were all performed under the 
disguise of religion and long prayers. 

f They affected differences in habit and behaviour. 

% They are severe persecutors, and all in form of cant 
and devotion. 

§ Cromwell and his confederates went, as they called 
it, to seek God, when they resolved to inurtherthe King. 



A TALE OP A TUB. £17 

improve the Spanish accomplishment of braying ; 
and having large ears, perpetually exposed and 
erected, he carried his art to such a perfection, 
that it was a point of great difficulty to distin- 
guish, either by the view or the sound, between 
the original and the copy. 

He was troubled with a disease, reverse to 
that called the stinging of the tarantula ; and 
would run dog-mad at the noise otmusic, especially 
a pair of bag-pipes *. But he would cure himself 
again, by taking two or three turns in Westmin- 
ster-hall, or Billingsgate, or in a boarding-school, 
or the Royal Exchange, or a state coffee house. 

He was a person that feared no colours f, but 
mortally hated all - y and upon that account bore 
a cruel aversion against painters, insomuch that 
in his paroxysms, as he walked the streets, he 
would have his pockets loaden with stones, to 
pelt at the signs. 

Having, from this manner of living, frequent 
occasion to wash himself, he would often leap 
over head and ears into water, though it were 
the midst of winter ; and was always observed 

* This is to expose our dissenters aversion against 
instrumental music in churches W. Wotton. 

f They quarrel at the most innocent decency and orna- 
ment, and defaced the statues and paintings on all the 
churches in England, 



218 A TALE OF A TUB. 

to come out again much dirtier, if possible, 
than he went in *. 

He was the first that ever found out the secret 
of contriving a soporiferous medicine to be con- 
veyed in at the ears. It was a compound of 
sulphur and balm of Gilcad, with a little pilgrim's 
salve f . 

He wore a large plaister of artificial caustics 
on his stomach, with the fervour of which he 
could set himself a groaning, like the famous 
board upon application of a red-hot iron. 

He would stand in the turning of a street; 
and, calling to those who passed by, would cry 
to one, Worthy Sir, do me the honour of a good 
slap in the chaps; to another, Honest friend, pray 
favour me with a handsome kick on the arse. 
Madam, shall I intreat a small box on the ear 
from your ladyship's fair hand ? Noble Captain, 
lend a reasonable thwack for the love of God, wilh 
that cane of yours, over these poor shoulders J, 
And when he had by such earnest solicitations, 

* Baptism or aoults by plunging. Hatches* 
f Fanatic preaching, composed either of hell or dam- 
nation, or a fulsome description of ihe joys of heaven ; 
both in such a dirty, nauseous style, as to be well resem- 
bled to pilgrim's salve. 

J The Fanatics have always had a way of affecting to 
run into persecution, and count vast merit upon every 
little hardship they suffer. 



A TALE OF A TUB. 219 

made a shift to procure a basting sufficient to 
swell up his fancy and his sides, he would return 
home extremely comforted, and full of terrible 
accounts of what he had undergone for the public 
good. Observe this stroke, said he, shewing hi* 
bare shoulders, a plaguy janisary gave it me this 
very morning at seven o'clock, as, with much ado, 
I was driving of the Great Turk. Neighbours, 
mind this broken head deserves a plaister. Had 
poor Jack been tender of his noddle, you would 
have seen the Pope and the French King, long 
before this time of day, among your wives and 
your warehouses. Dear Christians, the Great 
Mogul was come as far as White-chapel; and you 
may thank these poor sides, that he hath not (God 
bless us) already swallowed up man, woman, and 
child. 

It was highly worth observing, the singular 
effects of that aversion or antipathy which Jack 
and his brother Peter seemed, even to an affec- 
tation, to bear against each other *<, Peter had 

* The Papists and Fanatics, though they appear the 
most averse against each other, yet bear a near resem- 
blance, in many things, as hath been observed by learned 
men. 

Ibid. The agreement of our Dissenters and the Papists, 

in that which Bishop Stillingfleet called, The fanaticism 

of the church of Rome, is ludicriously described for several 

pages together, by Jack's likeness to Peter, and their 

l2 



£20 A TALE OF A TUB. 

lately done some rogueries, that forced him to 
abscond; and he seldom ventured to stir out 
before night, for fear of bailiffs. Their lodgings 
were at the two most distant parts of the town > 
from each other; and whenever their occasions 
or humours called them abroad, they would 
make choice of the oddest unlikely times, and 
most uncouth rounds, they could invent, that 
they might be sure to avoid one another. Yet, 
after all this, it was their perpetual fortune to 
meet. The reason of which is easy enough to 
apprehend : for the phrenzy and the spleen of 
both having the same foundation, we may look 
upon them as two pair of compasses, equally 
extended, and the fixed foot of each remaining 
in the same centre; which though moving 
contrary ways at first, will be sure to encounter 
somewhere or other rn the circumference. Be- 
sides, it was among the great misfortunes of 
Jack, to bear a huge personal resemblance with 
his brother Peter. Their humour and dispositions 
were not only the same, but there was a close 
analogy in their shape and size, and their mien; 
insomuch as nothing was more frequent, than 
for a bailiff to seize Jack by the shoulders, and 
cry, Mr. Peter, you are the King's prisoner ; or, 

being often mistaken for each other, and their frequent 
meetings when they least intended it. W. Wotton. 



A TALE OF A TUB. 221 

at other times, for one of Peter's nearest friends, 
to accost Jack with open arms, Dear Peter, 
I am glad to see thee ; pray, send me one of your 
best medicines for the worms. This, we may 
suppose, was a mortifying return of those pains 
and proceedings Jack had laboured in so long; 
and finding how directly opposite all his endea- 
vours had answered to the sole end and inten- 
tion which he had proposed to himself, how 
could it avoid having terrible effects upon a head 
and heart so furnished as his ? However, the 
poor remainders of his coat bore all the punish- 
ment. The orient sun never entered upon his 
diurnal progress, without missing a piece of it. 
He hired ataylor to stitch up the collar so close, 
that it was ready to choke him, and squeezed 
out his eyes at such a rate as one could see 
nothing but the white. What little was left of 
the main substance of the coat, he rubbed every 
day. for two hours, against a rough-cast wall, in 
order to grind away the remnants of lace and 
embroidery ; but, at the same time, went on 
with so much violence, that he proceeded a 
Heathen philosopher. Yet, after all he could do 
of this kind, the success continued still to disap- 
point his expectation. For as it is the nature 
of rags, to bear a kind of mock resemblance to 
finery; there being a sort of fluttering appearance 
in both, which is not to be distinguished at a 

l 3 



$ 


# 


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222 A TALE OF A TUB, 

distance, in the dark, or by short-sighted eyes: 
so, in those junctures, it fared with Jack and 
his tatters, that they offered to the first view a 
ridiculous flaunting; which, assisting the resem- 
blance in person and air, thwarted all his projects 
©f separation, and left so near a similitude 
between them, as frequently deceived the very 
disciples and followers of both. * # 

* * # 

Desunt non- 
nulla. 

# * # 
The old Sclavonian proverb said well, That it 

is with men as with asses ; whoever would keep 
them fast j must find a very good hold at their ears. 
Yet I think we may affirm, that it hath beea 
verified by repeated experience, that, 

Effugiet tamen haec sceleratus vincula Proteus. 

It is good, therefore, to read the maxims of 
our ancestors, with great allowances to times and 
persons. For, if we look into primitive records 
we shall find, that no revolutions have been so 
great, or so frequent, as those of human ears. 
In former days, there was a curious invention to 
catch and keep them ; which, I think, we may 
justly reckon among the artesperditoe. And how 






A TALE OF A TUB. 223 

can it be otherwise, when, in these latter centu- 
ries, the very species is not only diminished to a 
very lamentable degree, but the poor remainder 
is also degenerated so far, as to mock our skilful- 
Jest tenure® For if the only slitting of one ear in 
a stag hath been found sufficient to propagate 
the defect through a whole forest, why should 
we wonder at the greatest consequences, for so 
many loppings and mutilations, to which the 
ears of our fathers, and our own, have been of 
late so much exposed ? It is true, indeed, that 
while this island of ours was under the dominion 
of grace, many endeavours were made to im- 
prove the growth of ears once more among us. 
The proportion of largeness was not only looked 
upon as an ornament of the outward man, but a9 
a type of grace in the inward. Besides, it is held 
by naturalists, that if there be a protuberancy 
of parts in the superior region of the body, as in 
the ears and nose, there must be a parity also in 
the inferior. And therefore, in that truly pious 
age, the males in every assembly, according as 
they were gifted, appeared very forward in 
exposing their ears to view, and the regions 
about them; because Hippocrates tells us, that 
when the vein behind the ear happens to be cut, a 
man becomes an eunuch *. And the females were 

* Lib. de aere > locis, et aquis, 
h 4 



224 A TALE OF A TUB. 

nothing back warder in beholding and edifying by 
them: whereof those who had already used 
the means, looked about them with great concern, 
in hopes of conceiving a suitable offspring by 
such a prospect. Others, who stood candidates 
for benevolence, found there a plentiful choice, 
and was sure to fix upon such as discovered the 
largest ears, that the breed might not dwindle 
between them. Lastly, the devouter sisters, who 
look upon all extraordinary dilatations of that 
member as protrusions of zeal, or spiritual 
excrescences, were sure to honour every head 
they sat upon, as if they had been marks of 
grace-, but especially that of the preacher, whose 
ears were usually of the prime magnitude; which, 
upon that account, he was very frequent and 
exact in exposing with all advantages to the 
people; in his rhetorical paroxysms, turning 
sometimes to hold forth the one, and sometimes 
fc> hold forth the other. From which custom, 
the whole operation of preaching is to this very 
day, among their professors, styled by the phrase 
of holding forth* 

Such was the progress of the saints for advan- 
cing the size of that member; and it is thought, 
the success would have been every way answera- 
ble, if in process of time, a cruel king had not 
arose, who raised a bloody persecution against 



I 



A TALE OF A TUB. £%$ 

all ears above a certain standard *. Upon which, 
some were glad to hide their flourishing sprouts 
in a black border; others crept wholly under a 
periwig ; some were slit, others cropped, and a 
great number sliced off to the stumps. But 
of this more hereafter in my general history of 
ears; which I design very speedily to bestow 
upon the public. 

From this brief survey of the falling state of 
ears in the last age, and the small care had to 
advance their ancient growth in the present, it is 
manifest, how little reason we can have to rely 
upon a hold so short, so weak, and so slippery; 
and that whoever desires to catch mankind fast, 
must have recourse to some other methods. 
Now, he that will examine human nature with 
circumspection enough, may discover several 
handles, whereof the sixf senses afford one a-piece, 
beside a great number that are screwed to the 
passions, and some few rivetted to the intellect. 
Among these last, curiosity is one, and, of all 
others, affords the firmest grasp; curiosity , that 
spur in the side, that bridle in the mouth, that 
ring in the nose, of a lazy and impatient, and 
a grunting reader. By this handle it is, that an 

* This was K. Charles II. who, at his restoration, turn- 
ed out all the dissenting teachers that would not conform, 
f Including Scaliger's. 

h 5 



€26 A TALE OF A TUB. 

author should seize upon his readers; which as 
soon as he hath once compassed, all resistance 
and struggling are in vain ; and they become 
his prisoners as close as he pleases, till weariness 
or dulness force him to let go his grip. 

And therefore I, the author of this miraculous 
treatise, having hitherto, beyond expectation, 
maintained, by the aforesaid handle, a firm hold 
upon my gentle leaders; it is with great reluc- 
tance, that I am at length compelled to remit 
my grasp ; leaving thern in the perusal of what 
remains to that natural oscitaticy inherent in the 
tribe. I can only assure thee, courteous reader, 
for both our comforts, that my concern is alto- 
gether equal to thine, for my unhappiness in 
losing, or mislaying among my papers, the 
remaining part of these memoirs; which consist- 
ed of accidents, turns, and adventures, both new, 
agreeable, and surprising; and therefore calcu- 
lated, in all due points, to the delicate taste of 
this our noble age. But, alas! with my utmost 
endeavours, I have been able only to retain a 
few of the heads. Under which, there was a 
full account, how Peter got & protection out of 
the King's-bench ; and of a reconcilement be- 
tween Jack and him, upon a design they had 
in a certain rainy night to trepan brother Martin 
into a spunging-home, and there strip him to the 



A TALE OF A TUB. £2?" 

skin*: how Martin, with much ado, shewed 
them both a fair pair of heels ; how anew war- 
rant came out against Peter; upon which, how 
Jack left him in the lurch, stole his protection, and 
mad? me of it himself. How Jack's tatters came 
into fashion in court and city ; how he got upon a 
great horsef, and eat custardp But the particu- 
lars of all these, with several others, which have 
now slid out of my memory, are lost beyond all 
hopes of recovery. For which misfortune, 
leaving my readers to condole with each other, 
as far as they shall find it to agree with 
their several constitutions; but conjuring them, 

* In the reign of K. James II. the Presbyterians, by the 
King's invitation, joined with the Papists, against the 
church of England, and addressed him for repeal of the 
penal laws and test. The King, by his dispensing power, 
gave liberty of conscience, which both Papists and Pres- 
byterians made use of. But upon the Revolution, the 
Papists being down of course, the Presbyterians freely 
continued their assemblies, by virtue of K. Jame^s indul- 
gence, before they had a toleration by law. This, I believe, 
the author means by Jack's stealing Peter's protection, 
and making use of it himself. 

f Sir Humphrey Edwyn, a Presbyterian, was some 
years ago Lord Mayor of London, and had the insolence 
to go in his formalities to a conventicle, with the ensigns 
of his office. 

X Custard is a famous dish at a Lord Mayor's feast. 
l6 



A TALE OF A TUB. 



by all the friendship that hath passed between 
us from the title-page to this, not to proceed so 
far as to injure their healths for an accident past 
remedy : I now go on to the ceremonial part of 
an accomplished writer; and therefore, by a 
courtly modem, least of all others to be omitted. 



THE CONCLUSION. 



GOING too long, is a cause of abortion as 
effectual, though not so frequent, as going too 
short ; and holds true, especially in the labours 
of the brain. Well fare the heart of that noble 
Jesuit * who first adventured to confess in print,, 
that books must he suited to their several seasons, 
like dress, and diet, and diversions : and better 
fare our noble nation, for refining upon this, 
among other French modes. I am living fast to 
see the time, when a book that misses its tide, 
$hall be neglected, as the moon by day, or like 
maekarei a week after the season. No man hath 
more nicely observed our climate, than the 

* Pere d'Orleans, 



THE CONCLUSION. £29 

bookseller who bought the copy of this work. 
He knows to a tittle, what subjects will best go 
off in a dry year, and which it is proper to expose 
foremost, when the weather-glass is fallen to 
much rain. When he had seen this treatise, 
and consulted his almanack upon it, he gave me 
to understand, that he had manifestly considered 
the two principal things, which were the bulk 
and the subject ; and found, it would never take, 
but after a long vacation ; and then only, in 
case it should happen to be a hard year for tur- 
nips. Upon which I desire to know, considering 
my urgent necessities, what he thought might be 
acceptable this month. He looked westward, 
and said, / doubt we shall have a Jit of bad wea- 
ther ; however, if you could prepare some pretty 
little banter, (but not in verse), or a small treatise 

upon the , it would run like wildfire. But 

if it hold up, / have already hired an author to 
write something against Dr. Bentley, which, I am 
$ure y will turn to account*. 

At length we agreed upon the expedient, that 
when a customer comes for one of these, and 
desires in confidence to know the author; he 

* When Dr. Prideaux brought the copy of his connection 
of the Old and New Testament to the bookseller, he told 
him, it was a dry subject, and the printing could not safely 
be ventured, unless he could enliven it with a little humour. 
Hawkes. 



£30 A TALE OF A TUB. 

will tell him very privately, as a friend, naming 
which ever of the wits shall happen to be that 
week in vogue; and if Durfey's last play should 
be in course, I had as lieve he may be the 
person as Congreve. This I mention, because 
I am wonderfully well acquainted with the pre- 
sent relish of courteous readers ; and have often 
observed, with singular pleasure, that a fly driven 
from a honey-pot, will immediately with very 
good appetite, alight, and finish his meal on an 
excrement. 

I have one word to say upon the subject of 
profound writers, who are grown very numerous 
of late; and, L know very well, the judicious 
world is resolved to list me in that number. 
I conceive therefore, as to the business of being 
profound, that it is with writeis, as with wells: 
a person with good eyes may see to the bottom 
of the deepest, provided any zvater be there; 
and often when there is nothing in the world at 
the bottom, besides dryness and dirt, though it 
be but a yard and a half under ground, it shall 
pass however for wondrous deep, upon no wiser 
a reason, then because it is wondrous dark. 

I am now trying an experiment very frequent 
among modem authors; which is, to write upon 
nothing: when the subject is utterly exhausted, 
to let the pen still move on ; by some called, the 
ghost of wit, delighting to walk after the death 



THE CONCLUSION. 231 

of its body. And to say the truth, there seems 
to be no part of knowledge in fewer hands, than 
that of discerning when to have done. By the 
time that an author hath written out a book, he 
and his readers are become old acquaintance, 
and grow very loth to part ; so that I have some- 
times known it to be in writing, as in visiting, 
where the ceremony of taking leave has employ- 
ed more time than the whole conversation before. 
The conclusion of a treatise resembles the con- 
clusion of human life, which hath sometimes 
been compared to the end of a feast ; where few 
are satisfied to depart, ut plenus vita conviva: 
for men will sit down after the fullest meal, 
though it be only to dose, or to sleep out the rest 
of the day. But, in this latter, I differ extremely 
from other writers ; and shall be too proud, if, 
by all my labours, I can have any waj T s contri- 
buted to the repose of mankind, in times so tur- 
bulent and unquiet as these*. Neither do T 
think such an employment so very alien from 
the office of a wit 9 as some would suppose. 
For among a very polite nation in Greece, there 
were the same temples built and consecrated 
to Sleep and the Muses, between which two 

* This was written before the peace of Kyswick, which 
was signed in September 1697. 



232 A TALE OF A TUB. 

deities they believed the strictest friendship was 
established*. 

I have one concluding favour to request of my 
reader, That he will not expect to be equally 
diverted and informed by every line, or every 
page of this discourse; but give some allowance 
to the author's spleen, and short fits or intervals 
of dulness, as well as his own; and lay it seriously 
to his conscience, whether, if he were walking 
the streets in dirty weather, or a rainy day, he 
would allow it fair dealing in folks, at their ease 
from a window, to criticise his gait, and ridicule 
his dress at such a juncture. 

In my disposure of employments of the brain, 
I have thought fit to make invention the master, 
and to give method and reason the office of his 
lacqueys. The cause of this distribution was, 
from observing it my peculiar case to be often 
under a temptation of being witty upon occa- 
sions, where I could be neither wise nor sound, 
nor any thing to the matter in hand. And I 
am too much a servant of the modern way, to 
neglect any such opportunities, whatever pains 
or improprieties I may be at to introduce them. 
For I have observed, that from a laborious col- 
lection of seven hundred thirty-eight Jiozcers, and 
shining hints of the best modern authors, digested 

* Trezenii, Pausan, 1. 2. 



THE CONCLUSION. 233 

with great reading into my book of common- 
places \ I have not been able, after five years, to 
draw, hook, or force into common conversation, 
any more than a dozen. Of which dozen, the 
one moiety failed of success, by being dropped 
among unsuitable company ; and the other cost 
me so many strains, and traps, and ambages to 
introduce, that I at length resolved to give it 
over. Now, this disappointment, (to discover a 
secret), I must own, gave me the first hint of 
setting up for an author ; and I have since found 
among some particular friends, that it is become 
a very general complaint, and has produced the 
same effects upon many others. For I have 
remarked many a towardly word to be wholly 
neglected or despised in discourse^ whicfo hath 
passed very smoothly, with some consideration 
I and esteem, after its preferment and sanction in 
print. But now, since, by the liberty and 
encouragement of the press, I am grown absolute 
master of the occasions and opportunities to 
expose the talents I have acquired ; I already 
discover, that the issues of my observanda begin 
to grow too large for the receipts. Therefore I 
shall here pause a while, till 1 find, by feeling 
the world's pu.se, and mv own, that it will be 
of absolute necessity for us both to resume my 
pen. 



A 

- 

FULL AND TRUE ACCOUNT 

OF THE 

BATTLE 

FOUGHT LAST FRIDAY, 
BETWEEN THE ANCIENT AND THE MODERN 

BOOKS 

JN ST. JAMES'S LIBRARY. 



THE 



BOOKSELLER TO THE READER. 



THE following discourse, as it is unquestion- 
ably of the same author, so it seems to have been 
written about the same time with the former; 
I mean, the year 1697, when the famous dispute 
was on foot, about ancient and modern learning. 
The controversy took its rise from an essay of 
Sir William Temple's upon that subject; which 
was answered by W. Wotton, B. D. with an 
appendix by Dr. Bentley, endeavouring to 
destroy the credit of iEsop and Phalaris for 
authors, whom Sir William Temple had, in the 
essay before mentioned, highly commended. In 
that appendix, the doctor falls hard upon a new 
edition of Phalaris, put out by the honourable 
Charles Boyle, (now Earl of Orrery) ; to which 
(Mr. Boyle replied at large, with great learning 
and wit; and the doctor voluminously rejoined. 



238 THE BOOKSELLER TO THE READER. 

In this dispute, the town highly resented, to see 
a person of Sir William Temple's character and 
merits roughly used by the two Reverend gen- 
tlemen aforesaid, and without any manner of 
provocation. At length, there appearing no 
end of the quarrel, our author tells us, that the 
BOOKS in St. James's library, looking upon 
theimelves as parties principally concerned, took 
up the controversy, and came to a decisive battle ; 
but the manuscript, by the injury of fortune or 
weather, being in several places imperfect, we 
cannot learn to which side the victory fell. 

I must warn the reader, to beware of applying 
to persons, what is here meant only of books in 
the most literal sense. So, when Virgil is men- 
tioned, we are not to understand the person of 
a famous poet called by that name ; but only cer- 
tain sheets of paper, bound up in leather, con- 
taining in print the works of the jaid poet ; and 
so of the rest. 



THE 



PREFACE OF THE AUTHOR. 



SATTKEi* a sort of glass, wherein beholders 
do generally discover every body's face but 
their own; which is the chief reason for that 
kind reception it meets with in the world, and 
that so very few are offended with it. But if it 
should happen otherwise, the danger is not 
great; and 1 have learned, from long experience, 
never to apprehend mischief from those under- 
standings I have been able to provoke. For 
anger and fury, though they add strength to 
the sinews of the body, yet are found to relax 
those of the mind, and to render all its efforts 
feeble and impotent. 

There is a brain that will endure but one scum- 
piing ; let the owner gather it with discretion, 
and manage his little stock with husbandry. 



240 THE PREFACE OF THE AUTHOR. 

- - • ' ' " • • ' ■ ■ ' - * ?' 

But of all things, let him beware of bringing it 
under the lash of his betters; because that will 
make it all bubble up into impertinence, and he 
will find no new supply: wit without knowledge 
being a sort of crtam, which gathers in a night 
to the top, and by a skilful hand may be soon 
whipped into froth; but once scummed away, 
what appears underneath, will be fit for nothing, 
but to be thrown to the hogs. 



FULL AND TRUE ACCOUNT OF THE 

BATTLE 

Fought Last Friday, %c. * 



VV HOEVER examines with due circumspec- 
tion, into the annual records of time, will find 
it remarked, that War is the child of pride, and 

* The Battle of the Books took its rise from a contro- 
versy between Sir William Temple and Mr. Wotton; a 
a controversy which made much noise, and employed 
many pens towards the latter end of the last century. 
This humourous treatise is drawn up in an heroic comic 
style, in which Swift, with great wit and spirit, gives the 
victory to the former. The general plan is excellent, but 
particular parts are defective. The frequent chasms puzzle 
and interrupt the narrative: they neither convey anj 
latent ideas ; nor point out any distinct or occult sarcasms. 
Some characters are barely touched upon, which might 
have been extended ; others are enlarged, which might 
have been contracted. The name of Horace is inserted ; 

M 



242 THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 

Pride the daughter of Riches*. The former of 
which assertions may be soon granted : but one 
cannot but so easy subscribe to the latter. For 

and Virgil is introduced only for an opportunity of com- 
paring his translator, Dryden, to the lady in a lobster ; 
to a mouse under a canopy of state ; and to a shrivelled 
heau zoithin the pent-house of' a full-bottomed periwig. These 
similies carry the true stamp of ridicule. But rancour 
must be very prevalent in the heart of an author, who 
could overlook the merits of Dryden; many of whose 
dedications and prefaces are as fine compositions, and as 
just pieces of criticism, as any in our language. The 
translation of Virgil was a work of haste and indigence. 
Dryden was equal to the undertaking, but unfortunate 
during the conduct of it. - The two chief heroes among 
the modern generals, are Wotton and Bentley. Their 
figures are displayed in the most disadvantageous attitudes. 
The former is described, " full of spleen, dulness, and ill 
manners." The latter is represented, " tall, without shape 
or comeliness; lar^e, without strength or proportion."—* 
The battle, which is maintained by the ancients with great 
superiority of strength, though not of numbers, ends 
with the demolition of Bentley, and his friend Wotton, by 
the lance of the Honourable Charles Boyle, youngest 
son of Roger the second Earl of Orrery, and father of the 
present Earl. He was a fellow of the royal society, and 
invented the astronomical machine called the Orrery* 
Orrery. 

* Riches produceth pride; pride is war's ground, &c. 
Vid. Ephem. de Mary Clarke, opt. edit. — now called 
Wing's sheet almanack, and printed by J. Roberts for the 
company of Stationers. 



I 



THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 243 



Pride is nearly releated to Beggary and Want, 
either by father or mother, and sometimes by 
both: and, to speak naturally, it very seldom 
happens among men to fall out, when all have 
enough; invasions usually travelling from North 
to South, that is to say, from poverty to plenty. 
The most ancient and natural grounds of quar- 
rels are Lust and Avarice ; which, though we may 
allow to be brethren or collateral branches of 
Pride, are certainly the issues of Want. For, to 
speak in the phrase of writers upon politics, we 
may observe in the republic of dogs, which in its 
original seems to be an institution of the many, 
that the whole state is ever in the profoundest 
peace after a full meal; and that civil broils arise 
among them, when it happens for one great bone 
to be seized on by some hading dog; who either 
divides it among the few, and then it falls to an 
oligarchy; or keeps it to himself, and then it 
runs up to a tyranny. The same reasoning also 
holds place among them, in those dissensions we 
behold upon a turgescency in any of the females. 
For, the right of possession lying in common, (it 
being impossible to establish a property in so deli- 
cate a case), jealousies and suspicions do so 
abound, that the whole commonwealth of that 
state is reduced to a manifest state of war, of 
every citizen against every citizen ; till some one 
of more courage, conduct, or fortune, than the 
M 2 



-544 THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 

rest, seizes and enjoys the prize : upon which 
naturally arises plenty of heart-burning, and envy 
and snarling against the happy dog. Again, if we 
look upon any of these republics engaged in a 
foreign war, either of invasion or defence, we 
shall find, die same reasoning will serve as to the 
grounds and occasions of each ; and that Poverty, 
or Want, in some degree or other, (whether 
real, or in opinion, which makes no alteration in 
the case), has a great share, as well as Pride, on 
the part of the aggressor. 

Now, whoever will please to take this scheme, 
and either reduce or adapt it to an intellectual 
state, or commonwealth of learning, will soon 
discover the first ground of disagreementbetween 
the two great parties at this time in arms ; and 
may form just conclusions upon the merits of 
either cause. But the issue or events of this war 
are not so easy to conjecture at: for the present 
quarrel is so inflamed by the warm heads of 
either faction, and the pretensions somewhere or 
other so exorbitant, as not to admit the leas.t 
overtures of accommodation. This quarrel 
first began, as I have heard it affirmed by an old 
dweller in the neighbourhood, about a small spot 
X)f ground, laying and being upon one of the two 
; tops of the hill Parnassus, the highest and largest 
of which had, it seems, been, time out of mind, 
in quiet possession of certain tenants called the 



THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 245 

Undents; and the other was held by the Modems. 
But these disliking their present station, sent 
certain ambassadors to the Ancients, complaining 
of a great nuisance; how the height of that part 
of Parnassus quite spoiled the prospect of theirs, 
especially towards the east : and therefore, to 
avoid a war, offered them the choice of this alter- 
native, either that the Ancients would please to 
remove themselves and their effects down to the 
lower summity, which the Moderns would gra- 
ciously surrender to them, and advance in their 
place ; or else that the said Ancients will give leave 
to the Moderns, to come with shovel and mat- 
tocks, and level the said hill as low as they shall 
think it convenient. To which the Ancients made 
answer, How little they expected such a message 
as this, from a colony whom they bad admitted, 
out of their own free grace, to so near a neigh- 
bourhood : that as to their own seat, they were 
aborigines of it; and therefore, to talk with them 
of a removal or surrender, was a language they 
did not understand : that if the height of the 
hill on their side shortened the prospect of the 
Moderns, it was a disadvantage they could not 
help ; but desired them to consider, whether that 
injury (if it be any), were not largely recompens- 
ed by the shade and shelter it afforded them : 
that as to the levelling or digging down, it was 
either folly or ignorance to propose it, if they 
M 3 



246 THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 

did, or did not know, how that side of the hill 
was an entire rock, which would break their 
tools and hearts, without any damage to itself: 
that they would therefore advise the Moderns, 
rather to raise their own side of the hill, than 
dream of pulling down that of the Ancients; to 
the former of which they would not only give 
licence, but also largely contribute. Ail this 
'was rejected by the Moderns, with much indig- 
nation ; who still insisted upon one of the two 
expedients. And so this difference broke out 
into a long and obstinate war; maintained on the 
one part by resolution, and by the courage of 
certain leaders and allies ; but on the other, by 
the greatness of their number, upon all defeats 
affording continual recruits. In this quarrel, 
whole rivulets of ink have been exhausted, and 
the virulence of both parties enormously aug- 
mented. Now, it must here be understood, that 
ink is the great missive weapon in all battles of 
the learned, which conveyed through a sort of 
engine called a quill, infinite numbers of these 
are darted at the enemy, by the valiant on each 
side, with equal skill and violence, as if it were 
an engagement of porcupines. This malignant 
liquor was compounded, by the engineer who 
invented it, of two ingredients, which are gall 
and copperas-, by its bitterness and venom, to 
suit in some degree, as well as to foment, the 



THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 247 

genius of the combatants. And as the Grecians, 
after an engagement, when they could not agree 
about the victory, were wont to set up trophies 
on both sides; the beaten party being content to 
be at the same expence to keep itself in counte- 
nance, (a laudible and ancient custom happily 
revived of late in the art of war); so the learned, 
after a sharp and bloody dispute, do on both 
sides hang out their trophies too, whichever 
comes by the worst. These trophies have largely 
inscribed on them, the merits of the cause; a 
full impartial account of such a battle, and how 
the victory fell clearly to the party that set them 
up. They are known to the world under several 
names; as, Disputes, Arguments, Rejoinders, Brief 
Considerations, Anszoers, Replies, Remarks, Re- 
flections, Objections, Confutations. For a very 
few days they are fixed up in all public places, 
either by themselves or their representatives*, 
for passengers to gaze at: from whence the 
chiefest and largest are removed to certain 
magazines, they call libraries, there to remain 
in a quarter purposely assigned them, and from 
thenceforth begin to be called books of contro- 
versy. 

v In these books is wonderfully instilled, and 
preserved, the spirit of each warrior, while he is 

* Their title-pages. 
M 4 



948 THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 

alive; and after his death, his soul transmigrates 
there, to inform them. This, at least, is the 
more common opinion. But I believe, it is with 
libraries as with other coemeteries, where some 
philosophers affirm, that a certain spirit, which 
they call bratum hominis, hovers over the monu- 
ment, till the body is corrupted, and turns to 
dust or to worms, but then vanishes or dissolves : 
so, we may say, a restless spirit haunts over 
every book, till dust or worms have seized upon 
it; which to some may happen in a few days, 
but to others later. And therefore, hooks of 
controversy, being of all others haunted by the 
most disorderly spirits, have always been confin- 
ed in a separate lodge from the rest ; and for 
fear of mutual violence against each other, it 
was thought prudent by our ancestors, to bind 
them to the peace with strong iron chains. Of 
which invention the original occasion was this. 
When the works of Scotus first came out, they 
were carried to a certain great library, and had 
lodgings appointed them : but this author was 
no sooner settled, than he went to visit his 
master Aristotle; and there both concerted 
together to seize Plato by main force, and turn 
him out from his ancient station among the 
divines, where he had peaceably dwelt near eight 
hundred years. The attempt succeeded, and 
the two usurpers have reigned ever since in his 









THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 249* 

stead. But to maintain quiet for the future, it 
was decreed, that all polemics of the largest size 
should be held fast with a chain. 

By this expedient, the public peace of libraries 
might certainly have been preserved, if a new 
species of controversial books had not arose of 
late years, instinct with a mast malignant spirit, 
from the war above mentioned, between the 
Uar?ied r about the higher summity of Parnassus. 

When these books were first admitted into 
the public libraries, I remember to have said 
upon occasion, to several persons concerned, 
how I was sure they would create broils where- 
ever they came, unless a world of care were 
taken: and therefore I advised that the cham- 
pions of each side should be coupled together, 
or otherwise mix.ed ; that, like the blending of 
contrary poisons,, their malignity might be 
employed among themselves. And it seems I 
was neither an ill prophet, nor an ill counsellor : 
for it was nothing else but the neglect of this 
caution, which gave occasion to the terrible 
fight that happened on. Friday last, between the 
Ancient and Modem books in the Kings library. 
Now, because the talk of this battle is so fresh 
in every body's mouth, and the expectation of 
the town so great to be informed in the particu- 
lars ; I, being possessed of all qualifications 
requisite in an historian, and retained by neither 
M 5 






250 THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 

party, have resolved to comply with the urgent 
importunity of my friends, by writing down a 
full impartial account thereof. 

The guardian of the regal library, a person of 
great valour, but chiefly renowned for his 
humanity'*, had been a fierce champion for the 
Moderns-, and in an engagement upon Parnassus, 
had vowed, with his own hands to knock down 
two of the Ancient chiefs, who guarded a small 
pass on the superior rock : but endeavouring to 
climb up, was cruelly obstructed by his own un- 
happy weight, and tendency towards his centre : 
a quality to which those of the Modern party 
are extreme subject ; for, being light-headed, 
they have in speculation a wonderful agility, and 
conceive nothing too high for them to mount; 
but in reducing to practice, discover a mighty 
pressure about their posteriors and their heels. 
Having thus failed in his design, the disappoint- 
ed champion bore a cruel rancour to the Ancients ; 
which he resolved to gratify, by shewing all 
marks of his favour to the books of their adver- 
saries, and lodging them in the fairest apart- 

* TheHonourableMr. Boyle, in the preface to his edition 
of Phalaris, says, he was refused a manuscript by the 
library-keeper, pro solita, humanitate sua. 

Ibid. Dr. Bentley was then library-keeper. The two 
ancients were Phalaris and iEsop. Hawkes. 



THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 251 

- — 1 — - — - — - 

merits; when at the same time, whatever book 
had the boldness to own itself for an advocate 
of the Ancients, was buried alive in some obscure 
corner, and threatened upon the least displeasure, 
to be turned out of doors. Besides, it so hap- 
pened, that about this time there was a strange 
confusion of place among all the books in the 
library ; for which several reasons were assigned. 
Some imputed it to a great heap of learned dust, 
which a perverse wind blew off from a shelf of 
Moderns into the keeper's eyes. Others affirmed, 
he had a humour to pick the worms out of the 
schoolmen, and swallow them fresh and fasting; 
whereof some fell Upon his spleen, and some 
climbed up into his head, to the great perturbation 
of both. And lastly, others maintained, that, 
by walking much in the dark about the library, 
he had quite lost the situation of it out of his 
head; and therefore, in replacing his books, he 
was apt to mistake, and clap Bes Cartes next 
to Aristotle, poor Plato had got between Hob- 
bes and the Seven wise masters ; and Virgil was 
hemmed in with Diyden on one side, and Withers 
on the other. 

Mean while, those books that were advocates 
for the Moderns, chose out one from among them, 
to make a progress through the whole library, 
examine the number and strength of their party, 
and concert their affairs. This messenger per- 
m 6 



£52 THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 

formed all things very industriously, and brought 
back with him a list of their forces, in all fifty 
thousand, consisting chiefly of light horse, heavy 
armed foot, and mercenaries : whereof the foot 
were, in general, but sorrily armed, and worse 
clad : their horses large, but extremely out of 
case and heart. However, some few, by trading 
among the Ancients, had furnished themselves 
tolerably enough. 

While things were in this ferment, discord 
grew extremely high, hot words passed on both 
sides, and ill blood was plentifully bred. Here 
a solitary Ancient squeezed up among a whole 
shelf of Moderns, offered fairly to dispute the 
case and to prove by manifest reason, that the 
priority was due to them, from long possession, 
and in regard of their prudence, antiquity, and, 
above all, their great merits towards the Mor 
derm. But these denied the premises ; and 
seemed very much to wonder, how the Ancients 
could pretead to insist upon their antiquity, 
when it was so plain, (if they went to that), 
that the Moderns were much the more ancient* of 
the two. As for any obligations they owed to 
the Ancients, they renounced them all. " It is 
true/' said tlxey, " we are informed some few of 
our party have been so mean to borrow their sub-n 

* According to the modern paradox, 



. 



THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 253 

sistence from you. But the rest, infinitely the 
greater number, (and especially we French and 
English,) were so far from stooping to so base 
an example, that there never passed, till this 
very hour, six words between us. For our 
horses were of our own breeding, our arms of 
our own forging, and our cloths of our own 
cutting and sowing/' Plato was by chance upon 
the next shelf, and observing those that &poke 
to be in the ragged plight mentioned awhile ago ; 
their jades lean and foundered, their weapons of 
rotten wood, their armour rusty, and nothing 
but rags underneath; he laughed aloud, and, in 

his pleasant way, swore, By he believed 

them. 

Now, the Moderns had not proceeded in theb 
late negociation, with secrecy enough to escape 
the notice of the enemy. For those advocates 
who had begun the quarrel, by setting first on 
foot the dispute of precedency, talked so loud 
of coming to a battle, that Temple happened to 
overhear them,, and gave immediate intelligence 
to the Jncients; who thereupon drew up their 
scattered troops together, resolving to act upon 
the defensive. Upon which several of the Mo- 
derns fled over to their party, and among the 
rest Temple himself. This Temple having been 
educated and long conversed among the Ancients > 



254 THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 

was of all the Modems their greatest favourite, 
and became their greatest champion. 

Things were at this crisis, when a material 
accident fell out. For, upon the highest corner 
of a large window, there dwelt a certain spider, 
swollen up to the first magnitude by the de- 
struction of infinite numbers ofjlies, whose spoils 
lay scattered before the gates of his palace, like 
human bones before the cave of some giant. 
The avenues to his castle were guarded with 
turnpikes and palisadoes, all after the modem 
way of fortification. After you had passed 
several courts, you came to the center, wherein 
you might behold the constable himself in his 
own lodgings, which had windows fronting to 
each avenue, and ports to sally out upon all 
occasions of prey or defence. In this mansion 
he had for some time dwelt in peace and plenty, 
without danger to his person by swallows from 
above, or to his palace by brooms from below ; 
when it was the pleasure of fortune to conduct 
thither a wandering bee, to whose curiosity a 
broken pane in the glass had discovered itself : 
and in he went; where expatiating a while, he 
at last happened to alight upon one of the out- 
ward walls of the spiders citadel ; which yielding 
to the unequal weight, sunk down to the very 
foundation. Thrice he endeavoured to force his 



THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 255 

rr-r-~ "•" " - - ~ • " ' . . . " , , ■ , _;__ 

passage, and thrice the center shook. The spider 
within feeling the terrible convulsion, supposed 
at first, that Nature was approaching to her final 
dissolution; or else, that Beelzebub, with all 
his legions, was come to revenge the death of 
many thousands of his subjects, whom his enemy 
had slain and devoured. However, he at length 
valiantly resolved to issue forth, and meet his 
fate. Meanwhile the bee had acquitted himself 
of his toils, and, posted securely at some 
distance, was employed in cleansing bis wings, 
and disengaging them from the ragged remnants 
of the cobweb. By this time the spider was 
adventured out; when, beholding the chasms, 
and ruins, and dilapidations of his fortress, he 
was very near at his wit's end. He stormed and 
swore like a madman, and swelled till he was 
ready to burst. At length, casting his eye upon 
the bee, and wisely gathering causes from events, 
(for they knew each other by sight) ; " A plague 
spilt you," said he, " for a giddy son of a whore. 
Is it you, with a vengeance, that have made 
this litter here ? Could not you look before you, 
and be d — n'd? Do you think I have nothing 
else to do, (in the devil's name), but to mend 
and repair after your arse?" " Good words, 
friend, (said the bee, having now pruned himself, 
and being disposed to droll ; " I'll give you my 
hand and word to come near your kennel na 



£56 THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 

more : I was never in such a confounded pickle 
since I was born." "Sirrah," replied the spider, 
ie if it were not for breaking an old pustom in our 
family, never to stir abroad against an enemy, 
I should come and teach you better manners/* 
4S I pray, have patience," said the bee, " or you 
will spend your substance; and, for aught I see, 
you may stand in need of it all towards the 
repair of your house " " Rogue, rogue," replied 
the spider; u yet me thinks you should have more- 
respect to a person, whom all the world allows 
to be so much your betters." " By my troth," 
said the bee, u the comparison will amount to- 
a very good jest ; and you will do me a favour, 
to let me know the reason that all the world is 
pleased to use in so hopeful a dispute." At this, 
the spider, having swelled himself into the size 
and posture of a disputant, began his argument 
in the true spirit of controversy, with a resolution 
to be heartily scurrilous and angry; to urge on 
his own reasons, without the least regard to the 
answers or objections of his opposite; and fully 
predetermined in his mind against all conviction. 
u Not to disparage myself," said be, " by the- 
eomparis®n with such a rascal, what art thou 
but a vagabond, without house or home, without 
stock or inheritance; born to no possession of 
moxxx own, but a pair of wings and a dronepipe? 
Your livelihood is an universal plunder upon* 






THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 257 

nature; a freebooter over fields and gardens; 
and for the sake of stealing, will rob a nettle as 
readily as a violet. Whereas I am a domestic 
animal, furnished with a native stock within 
myself. This large castle, (to shew my improve- 
ments in the mathematics) is all built with my 
own hands, and the materials extracted alto- 
gether out of my own person." 

" I am glad/' answered the bee, "to hear you 
grant at least, that I am come honestly by my 
wings and my voice : for then, it seems, I am 
obliged to heaven alone for my flights and my 
music; and providence would never have bestow- 
ed on me two such gifts, without designing them 
for the noblest ends. I visit indeed all the 
flowers and blosoms of the field and garden: 
but whatever I collect from thence, enriches 
myself, without the least injury to their beauty, 
their smell, or their taste. Now, for you, and 
your skill in architecture and other mathematics, 
I have little to say. In that building of your's, 
there might, for aught I know, have been labour 
and method enough ; but, by woful experience 
for us both, it is plain, the materials are naught; 
and I hope you will henceforth take warning, 
and consider duration and matter, as well as 
method and art. You boast indeed of being 
obliged to no other creature, but of drawing 
and spinning out all from yourself; that is to 



258 THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 

say, if we may judge of the liquor in the vessel 
by what issues out, you possess a good plentiful 
store of dirt, and poison in your breast. And 
and although I would by no means lessen or 
disparage your genuine stock of either, yet, I 
doubt, you are somewhat obliged for an increase 
of both to a little foreign assistance. Your 
inherent portion of dirt does not fail of acqui- 
sitions, by sweepings exhaled from below; and 
one insect furnishes you with a share of poison 
to destroy another. So that, in short, the 
question comes all to this, whether is the nobler 
being of the two; that which, by alazy contem- 
plation of four inches round, by an overweening 
pride, feeding and ingendering on itself, turns 
all into excrement and venom, producing nothing 
at all, but fly -bane and a cob-web : or that which, 
by an universal range, with long search, much 
study, true judgment, and distinction of things, 
brings home honey and wax ?" 

This dispute was managed with such eagerness, 
clamour and warmth, that the two parties of 
books in arms below stood silent awhile, waiting 
in suspence what would be the issue. Which 
was not long undetermined : for the bee, grown 
impatient at so much loss of time, fled straight 
away to a bed of roses without looking for a 
reply ; and left the spider, like an orator collected 
in himself, and just prepared to burst out. 



THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. t59 

It happened, upon this emergency, that JEsop 
broke silence first. He had been of late most 
barbarously treated by a strange effect of the 
regent's humanity, who had tore off his title-page, 
sorely defaced one half of his leaves, and chain- 
ed him fast among a shelf of Modems* ; where 
soon discovering how high the quarrel was like 
to proceed, he tried all his arts, and turned 
himself to a thousand forms. At length, in the 
borrowed shape of an ass, the regent mistook 
him for a Modern; by which means he had time 
and opportunity to escape to the Ancients, just 
when the spider and the bee were entering into 
the contest; to which, he gave his attention with 
a world of pleasure; and when it was ended, 
swore in the loudest key, that in all his life, he 
had never known two cases so parallel and adapt 
to each other, as that in the window, and this 
upon the shelves. " The disputants," said he, 
" have admirably managed the dispute between 
them, have taken in the full strength of all that 
is to be said on both sides, and exhausted the 
substance of every argument pro and con. It 
is but to adjust the reasonings of both to the 
present quarrel, then to compare and apply the 
labours and fruits of each, as the bee has learn- 

* Bentley, who denied the antiquity of iEsop. 



£60 THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 

edly deduced them ; and we shall find the con- 
clusion fail plain and close upon the Moderns 
and us. For, pray, gentlemen, was ever any 
thing so modem as the spider, in his air, his turns, 
and his paradoxes? he argues in the behalf of 
you his brethren, and himself, with many boast- 
ings of his native stock, and great genius ; that 
he spins and spits wholly from himself, and 
scorns to own any obligation or assistance from 
without, Then he displays to you his great skill 
in architecture, and improvement in the ma- 
thematicks. To all this, the bee, as an advocate 
retained by us the Ancients, thinks fit to answer, 
that if one may judge of the great genius or 
inventions of the Moderns, by what they have 
produced, you will hardly have countenance to 
bear you out in boasting of either. Erect your 
schemes with as much method and skill as you 
please; yet if the materials be nothing but dirt, 
spun out of your own entrails, (the guts of 
modem brains), the edifice will conclude at last 
in a cobweb; the duration of which, like that 
of other spiders webs, may be imputed to their 
being forgotten, or neglected, or hid in a cor- 
ner. For any thing else of genuine that the 
Modems, may pretend to, I cannot recollect- 
unless it be a large vein of wrangling and satire, 
much of a nature and substance with the spider's 
poison ; which, however they pretend to spit 



THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. £61 

wholly out of themselves, is improved by the 
same arts, by feeding upon the insects and ver- 
min of the age. As for us the Ancients, we 
are content, with the bee, to pretend to nothing 
of our own, beyond our zcings and our voice ; 
that is to say, our flights and our language. 
For the rest, whatever we have got, has been 
by infinite labour and search, and ranging 
•through every corner of nature. The difference 
is, that instead of dirt and poison, we have 
.rather chosen to fill our hives with honey and 
wax; thus furnishing mankind with the two 
noblest of things, which are, szoeetness and light" 
It is wonderful to conceive the tumult arisen 
among the books, upon the close of this long 
descant ofiEsop. Both parties took the hint, 
and heightened their animosities so on a sudden, 
that they resolved it should come to a battle. 
•Immediately the two main bodies withdrew 
under their several ensigns, to the farther parts 
of the library, and there entered into cabals and 
consults upon the present emergency; The 
Modems were in very warm debates upon the 
choice of their leaders ; and nothing less than 
the fear impending from their enemies, could 
have kept them from mutinies upon this occasion. 
The difference was greatest among the hone, 
where every private trooper pretended to the 
chief command, from Tasso and Milton, to 



262 THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 

Dryden and Withers. The light-horse were 
commanded by Cowley and Despreaux*. There 
came the bowmen under their valiant leaders, 
Des Cartes, Gassendi, and Hobbes; whose 
strength was such, that they could shoot their 
arrows beyond the atmosphere, never to fall down 
again, but turn, like that of Evander, into 
meteors, or, like the cannon-ball, into stars, 
Paracelsus brought a squadron of stinkpots/lingers 
from the snowy mountains of Rhaetia. There 
came, a vast body of dragoons of different nations, 
under the leading of Harvey, their great Jgaf ; 
part armed with scythes, the weapons of death ; 
part with lances and long knives, all steeped in 
poison; part shot bullets of a most malignant 
nature, and used white powder, which infalliably 
killed without report. There came several 
bodies of heavy-armed foot, all mercenaries^ under 
the ensign of Guiccardine, Davila, Polydore 
Virgil, Buchanan, Mariana, Camden, and others. 
The engineers were commanded by Regiomon- 
tanus and Wilkins. The rest were a confused 
multitude, led by Scotus, Acquinas, and Ballar- 

* More commonly known by the name of Boileau. 
Hawkes. 

f Dr. Harvey, who discovered the circulation of the 
blood; a discovery much insisted on by the advocates for 
the Moderns, and excepted against as false by Sir William 
Temple, in his essay, p. 44. 45. Hawkes. 



_ 



THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 



26^ 



mine; of mighty balk and stature, but without 
either arms, courage, or disciple. In the last 
place, came infinite swarms of calories *, a 
disorderly rout led by L'Estran^e ; rogues and 
raggamuffins, that followed the camp for nothing 
but the plunder; all without coats to cover 
themf. 

The army of Ancients was much few r er in 
number : Homer led the horse, and Pindar the 
light-horse; Euclid was chief engineer, Plato 
and Aristotle commanded the bowmen; Hero- 
dotus and Livy the foot; Hippocrates the dra- 
goons; the allies led by Vossius, and Temple 
brought up the rear. ' 

All things violently tending to a decisive bat- 
tle, Fame, who much frequented, and had a 
1 large apartment formerly assigned her in the 



regal library, fled up straight to Jupiter, to 
whom she delivered a faithful account of all that 

* Calories. By calling this disorderly rout calories, the 
euthor points both his satire and contempt against all sorts 
of mercenary scriblers, who write as they are commanded 
by the leaders and patrons of sedition, faction, corruption, 
and every evil work. They are styled calories, because 
they are the meanest and most despisable of all writers ; as 
the calories, whether belonging to the army, or private 
families, were the meanest of all slaves or servants 
whatsoever. Hawkes. 

t These are pamphlets which are not bound or covered. 



254 THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 

passed between the two parties below; for 
among the gods she always tells truth. Jove, in 
great concern, convokes a council in the Milky 
Way. The senate assembled : he declares the 
occasion of convening them; a bloody battle 
just impendent between two mighty armies of 
Ancient and Modern creatures, called books, 
wherein the celestial interest was but two deeply 
concerned. Momus, the patron of the Moderns, 
made an excellent speech in their favour; which 
was answered by Pallas, the protectress of the 
Ancients. The assembly was divided in their 
affections; when Jupiter commanded the book 
of Fate to be laid before him. Immediately 
were brought, by Mercury, three large volumes 
in folio, containing memoirs of all things past, 
present, and to come. The clasps were of silver, 
double gilt; the covers of celestial turkey-leather, 
and the paper such as here on earth might almost 
pass for vellum. Jupiter having silently read the 
decree, would communicate the import to none, 
but presently shut up the book. 

Without the doors of this assembly, there 
attended a vast number of light, nimble gods, 
menial servants to Jupiter. These are his mini- j 
stering instruments in all affairs below. They 
travel in a caravan, more or less together, and 
are fastened to each other, like a link of galley- 
slaves, by a light chain, which passes from them 



THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 265 



to Jupiter's great toe. And yet, in receiving or 
delivering a message, they may never approach 
above the lowest step of his throne, where he and 
they whisper to each other through a long hol- 
low trunk. These deities are called by mortal 
men accidents or events ; but the gods call them 
second causes. Jupiter having delivered his 
message to a certain number of these divinities, 
\ they flew immediately down to the pinnacle of 
i the regal library, and, consulting a few minutes, 
eii entered unseen, and disposed the parties accord- 
i ing to their orders. 

Mean while, Momus, fearing the worst, and 

r calling to mind an ancient prophecy, which bore 

no very good face to his children the Moderns, 

bent his flight to the region of a malignant deity, 

called Criticism. She dwelt on the top of a snowy 

mountain in Nova Zembla. There Momus 

tji found her extended in her den, upon the spoils 

- of numberless volumes half devoured. At her 

right hand sat Ignorance, her father and husband, 

blind with age; at her left, Pride, her mother, 

dressing her up in the scraps of paper herself 

had torn. There was Opinion, her sister, light 

of foot, hood-winked, and head-strong ; yet 

giddy, and perpetually turning. About her 

played her children, Noise, and Impudence, Dul- 

| ness and Vanity, Positiveness, Pedantry, and 

Ul-manners. The goddess herself had claws 

* 



& v 



266 THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 

like a cat; her head, and ears, and voice, 
resembled those of an ass ; her teeth fallen out 
before; her eyes turned inward, as if she looked 
only upon herself; her diet was the overflowing 
of her own gall; her spleen was so large, as to 
stand prominent like a dug of the first rate ; 
nor wanted excrescences in form of teats, at 
which a crew of ugly monsters were greedily 
sucking; and, what is wonderful to conceive, 
the bulk of spleen increased faster than the suck- 
ing could diminish it. " Goddess," said Momus, 
" can you sit idle here, while our devout wor- 
shippers, the Moderns, are this minute entering 
into a cruel battle, and perhaps now lying under 
the swords of their enemies ? who then hereafter 
will ever sacrifice, or build altars to out divinities? 
Haste therefore to the British isle, and, if possible, 
prevent their destruction; while I make 
factions among the gods, and gain them over 
to our party," 

Momus having thus delivered himself, staid 
not for an answer, but left the goddess to her 
own resentment. Up she rose in a rage; and as 
it is the form upon such occasions, began a 
soliloquy. " It is I," (said she) " who give wisdom 
to infants and idiots; by me children grow wiser 
than their parents; by me beaux become poli- 
ticians, and school-boys judges of philosophy; 
by mesophisters debate, and conclude upon the 



THE J5ATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 267 

1 ■ i ■ - . - . 

depths of knowledge; and coffeehouse-wits, 
instinct by me, can correct an author's style, 
and display his minutest errors, without under- 
standing a syllable of his matter or his language; 
by me striplings spend their judgment, as they 
do their estate, before it conies into their hands. 
It is I who have deposed wit and knowledge 
from their .empire over Poetry, and advanced 
myself in their stead. And shall a few upstart 

Ancients dare oppose me ? But come, my 

aged parents, and you my children dear, and 
thou my beauteous sister; let us ascend my 

\ chariot, and haste to assist our devout Modems, 
who are now sacrificing to us a hecatomb, as I 

I perceive by that grateful smell, which from 
thence reaches my nostrils/' 

The goddess and her train, having mounted 
the chariot, which was drawn by tame geese, flevr 
over infinite regions, shedding her influence in 
due places, till at length she arrived at her belov- 
ed island of Britain. But, in hovering over its 
metropolis, what blessings did she not let fall 
upon her seminaries of Gresham and Covent- 
garden ? and now she reached the fatal plain 
of St. James's library, at what time the two 
armies were upon the point to engage; where 
entering with all her caravan unseen, and, landing 
N 2 



-~-^ 



'€68 THE RATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 

upon a case of shelves, now desart, but once 
inhabited by a colony of virtuoso's, she staid 
a while to observe the posture of both armies. 

But here the tender cares of a mother began 
to fill her thoughts, and move in her breast. 
For, at the head of a troop of Modern bowmen, 
-she cast her eyes upon her son Wotton ; tq whom 
the Fates had assigned a very short thread; 
Wotton, a young hero, whom an unknown 
father of mortal race begot by stolen embraces 
with this goddess. He was the darling of his 
mother, above all her children, and she 'resolved 
to go and comfort him. But first, according to 
the good old custom of deities, she cast about 
to change her shape; for fear the divinity of her 
countenance might dazzle his mortal sight, and 
over charge the rest of his-senses. She therefore 
gathered up her person into an Octavo compass: 
her body grew white and arid, and split in pieces 
with driness ; the thick turned into paste-board, 
and the thin into paper, upon which her parents 
and children, artfully strewed a black juice, or 
decoction of gall and soot, in form of letters ; 
her head, and voice, and spleen, kept their 
primitive form, and that which before was n 
cover of skin, did still continue so. In this 
guise, she march'd on towards the Moderns, 
^indistinguishable in shape and dress from the 
divine Bentley, Wotton's dearest friend. a Brave 



*j 



THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. £69 

Wotton," said the goddess, " why do our troops 
stand idle here, to spend ther present vigour 
and opportunity of the day ? away, let us haste 
to the generals, and advise to give the onset 
immediately." Having spoke thus, she tock 
the uglest of her monsters, full glutted from her 
spleen, and flung it invisibly into his mouth; 
which flying straight up into his head, squeezed 
out his eye balls, gave him a* distorted look, and^ 
half overturned his brain. Then she privately 
ordered two of her beloved children, Dulness- 
and Ill-manners, closely to attend his person in 
all encounters. Having thus accoutred him, , 
she vanished in a mist; and the hero perceived it 
was the goddess his mother. 

The destined hour of fate being now arrived, 
the fight began ; whereof before I dare adventure 
to make a particular description, I must, after 
the example of other authors, petition for a 
hundred tongues, and mouths, and hands, and 1 
pens; which would all be too little to perform 
so immense a work. Say, goddess, that presided 
over history, who it was that first advanced in-.- 
the field of battle. Paracelsus, at the head of 
his dragoons, observing Galen in the adverse 
wing, darted his javelin with a mighty force; 
which the brave Ancient received upon his shield, 
the point breaking in the second fold, # * 
n 3 



£70 THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 

***** Hie pauca 

# * * * # desunt. 

They bore the wounded Jga* on their shields 

to his chariot. * * * 

***** Desunt 

* * * * * nonnulla. 

% # * # * * * 

Then Aristotle observing Bacon advance with 
a furious mien, drew his bow to the head, and 
let fly his arrow; which missed the valiant Mo- 
dern, and went hizzing over his head. But Des 
Cartes it hit : the steel point quickly found a 
defect in his head-piece; it pierced the leather and 
the pasteboard, and went in at his right eye. 
The torture of the pain whirled the valiant bow- 
man round, till death, like a star of superior 
influence, drew him into his own vortex. 

w w w w w w flt* ^r 



qt 


* 


# 


$ 


Ingens hiatus 


* 


* 


* 


* 


hie in MS. 


# 


* 


* 


# 


* 9p * 



when Homer appeared at the head of the cavalry, 
mounted on a furious horse, with difficulty ma- 

* Dr. Harvey. It was not thought proper to name 
Tiis antagonist, but only to intimated that he was wounded. 
Other moderns are spared by the hiatus that follows, 
probably for similar reasons. Hawkes. 



THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 2J\ 

naged by the rider himself, but which no other 
mortal durst approach. He rode among the 
enemy's ranks, and bore down all before him. 
Say, goddess, whom he slew first and whom he 
slew last. First, Gondibert * advanced against 
him, clad in heavy armour, and mounted on a 
staid sober gelding, not so famed for his speed, 
as his docility in kneeling, whenever his rider 
would mount or alight. He had made a vow to 
Pallas, that he would never leave the field, till 
he had spoiled Homer of his armourf- : Madman | 
who had never once seen the wearer, nor under- 
stood his strength. Him Komer overthrew, 
horse and man, to the ground; there to be 
trampled and choked in the dirt. Then with a 
long spear he slew Denham, a stout Modern; 
who from his father's side derived his lineage 
from Apollo, but his mother was of mortal racej # 
He fell and bit the earth. The celestial part 
Apollo took, and made its -a star; but the ter- 
r estial lay wallowing upon the ground. Then 

* An heroic poem by Sir William Davenant, in stanzas 
of four lines. Hawkes. 

f Vid' Homer. i 

% Sir John Denham's poems ar* very unequal, extremely 
good, and very indifferent; so that his detractors said, he 
-was not the real author of Cooper's Hill. 

N 4 



£72 THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 

Homer slew Wesley # , with a kick of his horse's 
heel. He took Perault by mighty force, out of 
his saddle; then hurled him at Fontenelle; with 
the same blow dashing out both their brains. 

On the left wing of the horse, Virgil appeared, 
in shining armour, completely fitted to his body. 
He was mounted on a dapple-grey steed, the 
slowness of whose pace was an effect of the 
highest mettle and vigour. He cast his eye on 
the adverse wing, with a desire to find an object 
"worthy of valour ; when, behold, upon a sorrel 
gelding of a monstrous size, appeared a foe, 
issuing from among the thickest of the enemy's 
squadrons : but his speed was less than his noise ; 
for his horse, old and lean, spent the drags of 
his strength in a high trot; which, though it 
made slow advances, yet caused a loud clashing 
of his armour, terrible to hear. The two cava- 
liers had now approached within the throw of a 
lance ; when the stranger desired a parley, and 
lifting up the vizor of his helmet, a face hardly 
appeared from within ; which, after a pause, was 
known for that of the renowned Dryden. The 
brave Ancient suddenly started, as one possessed 
with surprise and disappointment together: for 

* Mr. Wesley, who wrote the Life of Christ in verse, 
&c. Hatches. 



THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 27S 

the helmet was nine times too large for the head ; 
which appeared situate far in the hinder part, 
even like the lady in a lobster, or like a mouse 
under a canopy of state, or like a shrivelled beau 
from within the pent-house of a modern periwig: 
and the voice was suited to the visage, sounding 
weak and remote. Dryden in a long harrague,. 
soothed up the good /Indent ; called him Father; 
and, by a large deduction of genealogies, made 
it plainly appear, that they were nearly related. 
Then he humbly proposed an exchange of ar- 
mour, as a lasting mark of hospitality between 
them. Virgil consented, (for the goddess Diffi- 
dence came unseen, and cast a mist before his 
ej T es), though his was of gold, and cost a hun- 
dred beeves # , the other's but of rusty iron* 
However, this glittering armour became the 
Modern yet worse than his own.; Then they 
agreed to exchange horses; but when it came to 
the trial,, Jttryden was afraid, and utterly unable 
to mount. * # # " * 

•• *■ * ♦*' Alter hia- 

* * * ♦■ tusinMS. 

# # # Lucan appeared upon 
a. fiery horse, of admirable shape, but head- 
strong, bearing the rider where he listed, over 
the field. He made a mighty slaughter among, 

* Vid. Homer. 
N 5 



£74 TUJS BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 

the enemy's horse ; which destruction to stop, 
Blackmore, a famous Modern, (but one of the 
mercenaries)) strenuously opposed himself, and 
darted his javelin with a strong hand ; which fall- 
ing short of its mark, struck deep in the earth. 
Then Lucan threw a lance; but JEseulapius 
came unseen, and turned off the point*. " Brave 
Modern" said Lucan, " I perceive some god 
protects you ; for never did my arm so deceive 
me before. But what mortal can contend with 
a god ? Therefore let us fight no longer, but 
present gifts to each other." Lucan then bestow- 
ed the Modern a pair of spurs, and Black more 
gave Lucan a bridle. * * # 

# # * * # p auca 

* # # # _ # desunt. 
Creech : but the goddess Dulness took a v cloud, 
formed into the shape of Horace, armed and 
mounted, and placed it in a flying posture before 
him. Glad was the cavalier to begin a combat 
with a flying foe, and pursued the image, threat- 
ening loud; till at last it led him to the peaceful 
bower of his father Ogleby; by whom he was 
disarmed, and assigned to his repose. 

Then Pindar slew — -, and , and Old- 



* His skill as a physician atoned for his dulness as a 
poet. Hawkes. 



_ 



THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 275 



ham, and , and Afra and Amazon*, Jight 

of foot ; never advancing in a direct line, but 
wheeling with incredible agility and force, he 
made a terrible slaughter among the enemy's 
light-horse. Him when Cowley observed, his 
generous heart burnt within him, and he ad- 
vanced against the fierce Ancient , imitating his 
address, his pace and career, as well as the vigour 
of his horse, and his own skill, would allow, 
When the two cavaliers had approached within 
the length of three javelins ; first Cowley threw a 
lance, which missed Pindar, and passed into the 
enemy's ranks, fell ineffectual to the ground. 
Then Pindar darted' a javelin, so large and 
weighty, that scarce a dozen cavaliers, as cavaliers 
are in our degenerate days, could raise it from 
the ground; yet he threw it with ease, and it 
went, by an unerring hand, singing through the 
air; nor could the Modern have avoided present 
death, if he had not luckily opposed the shield 
that had been given him by Venusf . And now 
both heroes drew their swords. But the Modem 
was so aghast and disordered, that he knew not 
where he was; his shield dropped from his hands; 
thrice he fled, and thrice he could not escape. 

* Mrs. Afra Behn, author of many plays, novels, and 
poems. Hawkes. 
f His poem called the Mistress. Hazvkes. 



£76 THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 

At last he turned, and, lifting up his hands in 
the posture of a suppliant, i( Godlike Pindar!" 
said he, " spare my life, and possess my horse, 
with these arms, besides the ransom which my 
friends will give, when they hear I am alive, 
and your prisoner/' " Dog" said Pindar, u let 
your ransom stay with your friends: but your 
carcase shall be left for the fowls of the air, 
and the beasts of the field." With that he raised 
his sword, and, with a mighty stroke, cleft the 
wretched Modern in twain, the sword pursuing 
the blow; and one half lay panting on the 
ground, to be trod in pieces by the horses feet, 
the other half was borne by the frighted steed 
thro' the field. This Venus took # , and washed it 
seven times in ambrosia ; then struck it thrice 
with a sprig of amaranth ; upon which the 
leather grew round and soft, and the leaves 
turned into feathers; and being gilded before, 
continued gilded still; so it became a dove, and 
she harnessed it to her chariot. # # 

f I do not approve the author's judgment in this; fori 
think Cowley's Pindarics are much preferable to his 
Mistress. 

It may however be considered, that Cowley's Pindarics 
were but copies of which Pindar was the original. Before 
Pindar; therefore his Pindarics might fall, and his Mis- 
tress be preserved as properly his own. Hawkcs* 



THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 277 

# * * * * Hiatus talde 

# # # * * deflendusinMS. 
Day being far spent, and the numerous forces 

of the modems half inclining to a retreat, there 
issued forth from a squadron of their htavy-arm- 
edfoot*, a captain, whose name was Bentley; 
the most deformed of all the Moderns; tall, but 
without shape or comeliness ; large, but without 
strength or proportion. His armour was patched 
up of a thousand incoherent pieces; and the 
sound of it, as he marched, was loud and dry, 
like that made by the fall of a sheet of lead, 
which an Etesian wind blows suddenly down 
from the roof of some steeple. His helmet was 
of old rusty iron ; but the vizor was brass, which, 
tainted by his breath, corrupted into copperas, 
nor wanted gall from the same fountain; so that, 
whenever provoked by anger or labour, an atra- 
mentous quality of most malignant nature was 
seen to distill from his lips. In his right hand he 
grasped a flailf, and (that he might never be un- 

* The episode of Bentley and Wotton. 

As the account of the battle of the books is an allegorical 
representation of Sir William Temple's essa}', in which 
the Ancients are opposed to the Moderns, the account of 
of Bentley and Wotton is called an episode, and their 
intrusion represented as an under action. Hawkes. 

f The person here spoken of, is famous for letting fly 
at every body without distinction, and using mean and 
foul scurrilities. 



£78 THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 

provided of an offensive weapon) a vessel full of 
ordure in his left. Thus completely armed, he 
advanced with a slow and heavy pace, where the 
Modern chiefs were holding a consult upon the 
sum of things; who, as he came onwards, laugh- 
ed to behold his crooked leg, and hump shoulder, 
which his boot and armour vainly endeavouring 
to hide, were forced to comply with, and expose. 
The generals made use of him for his talent of 
railing; which, kept within government, proved 
frequently of great service to their cause; but at 
other times did more mischief than good; for at 
the least touch of offence, and often without 
any at all, he would, like a wounded elephant, 
convert it against his leaders. Such, at this 
juncture was the disposition of Bentley, grieved 
to see the enemy prevail, and dissatisfied with 
every body's conduct but his own. He humbly 
gave the Modern generals to understand, that he 
conceived, with great submission, they were all 
a pack of rogues, and fools, and son* of zohores, 
and d — n'd cowards, and confounded loggerheads, 
and illiterate wkelps 9 and nonsensical scoundrels; 
that if himself had been constituted general, 
those presumptuous dogs* the Ancients would 
long before this have been beaten out of the 
field. " You," said he, " sit here idle ; but when 
I, or any other valiant Modem, kill an enemy, 

* Vid. Homer de Thersite. 






THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 279 

you are sure to seize the spoil. But I will n t 
march one foot against the foe, till you all s v?ar 
to me, that whomever I take or kill, his arms I 
shall quietly possess." Bentley having spoken 
thus, Scaliger bestowing him a sour look ; 
" Miscreant prater," said he, " eloquent only in 
thine own eyes, thou railest without wit, or 
truth, or discretion. The malignity of thy 
temper perverteth nature, thy learning makes thee 
more barbarous ; thy study of humanity, more 
inhuman ; they converse "among poets, more 
grove/ling, miry, and dull. All arts of civilizing 
others, render thee rude and untra table ; courts 
have taught thee ill manners, and polite conver- 
sation has finished thee a pedant. Besides, a 
greater coward burdeneth not the army. But 
never despond ; 1 pass my word, whatever spoil 
thou takest, shall certainly be thy own; though, 
I hope, that vile carcase will first become a prey 
to kites and worms." 

Bentley durst not reply; but half choaked 
with spleen and rage, withdrew in full resolution 
of performing some great achievement. With 
him, for his aid and companion, he took his 
beloved Wotton ; resolving, by policy or surprise, 
to attempt some neglected quarter of the Ancients 
array. They began their march over carcases of 
their slaughtered friends ; then to the right of 
their own forces ; then wheeled northward, till 
they came to Aldrovandus's tomb ; which they 



280 THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 

passed on the side of the declining sun. And 
now they arrived with fear towards the enemy's 
out-guards; looking about, if haply they might 
spy the quarters of the wounded, or some strang- 
ling sleepers, unarmed and remote from the 
rest. As when two mungrel curs, whom native 
greediness and domestic want provoke and join in 
partnership, though fearful, nightly to invade 
the folds of some rich grazier; they, with tails 
depressed and lolling tongues, creep soft and slow : 
mean while, the conscious moon, now in her zenith, 
on their guilty heads darts perpendicular rays; 
nor dare they bark, though much provoked at 
her refulgent visage, whether seen in puddle 
by reflection, or in sphere direct ; but one sur~. 
veys the region round, while t'other scouts the 
plain, if happily to discover, at distance from the 
flock, some carcase half devoured, the refuse of 
gorged wolves, or omnious ravens : so marched 
this lovely, loving pair of friends, nor with less 
fear and circumspection'; when, at distance, they 
might perceive two shining suits of armour, 
hanging upon an oak, and the owners not far 
off in a profound sleep. The two friends drew 
lots, and the pursuing of this adventure fell to 
Bentley. On he went, and in his van Confusion 
and Amaze, while Horror and Affright brought 
up the rear. As he came near, behold two 
heroes of the Ancients army, Phalaris and JEsop, 



THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 281 

lay fast asleep. Bentley would fain have dispatch- 
ed them both ; and, stealing close, aimed his flail 
at Phalaris's breast. But then the goddess 
Affright interposing, caught the Modern in her 
icy arms, and dragged him from the danger she 
foresaw ; for both the dormant heroes happened 
to turn at the same instant, though soundly 
sleeping, and busy in a dream*. For Phalaris 
wasjust that minute dreaming, how a most vile 
poetaster had lampooned him, and how he had got 
him roaring in his bull. And iEsop dreamed, 
that as he and the Ancient chiefs were lying on 
the ground, a wild ass broke loose, ran about 
trampling and kicking, and dunging in their 
faces. Bentley, leaving the two heroes asleep, 
seized on both their armours, and withdrew in 
quest of his darling Wotton. 

He, in the mean time, had wandered long in 
search of some enterprise, till at length he 
arrived at a small rivulet, that issued from'a foun- 
tain hard by, called in the language of mortal 
men, Helican. Here he stopped, and, parched 
with thirst, resolved to allay it in this limpid 
stream. Thrice with profane hands he essayed 
to raise the water to his lips, and thrice it slipp- 
ed all through his fingers. Then he stooped 

*■ This is according to Homer, who tells the dreams of 
those who who were killed in their sleep. 



tSQ THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. 

prone on his breast ; but ere his mouth had kiss- 
ed the liquid crystal, Apollo came, and in the 
channel held his shield betwixt the Modern and 
the fountain, so that he drew up nothing but 
mud. For although no fountain on earth can 
compare with the clearness of Helicon, yet there 
lies at bottom a thick sediment of slime and mud: 
for so Apollo begged of Jupiter, as a punish- 
ment to those who durst attempt to taste it with 
unhallowed lips, and for a lesson to all, not to 
draw too deep, or far from the spring. 

At the fountain-head, Wotton discerned two 
heroes. The one he could not distinguish; but 
the other was soon known for Temple, general of 
the allies to the Ancients. His back was turned, 
and he was employed ixx drinking large draughts 
in his helmet, from the fountain, where he had 
withdrawn himself to rest from the toils of the 
war. Wotton observing hirn, with quaking 
knees and trembling hands spoke thus to himself, 
" Oh, that I could kill this destroyer of our 
army ! what renown should I purchase among 
the chiefs? But to issue out against him, man 
against man, shield against shield, and lance 
against lance*, what Modern of us dare ? for he 
fights like a god, and Pallas or Apollo are ever 
at his elbow. But, Oh, Mother! if what fame 

* VicU. Homer. 



THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS. £83 

reports be true, that I am the son of so great a 
goddess, grant me to hit Temple with this lance, 
that the stroke may send him to hell, and that 
I may return in safety and triumph, laden with 
his spoils." The first part of his prayer the godb 
granted, at the intercession of his mother, and 
of Momus ; but the rest, by a perverse wind, 
sent from Fate, was scattered in the air. Then 
Wotton grasped his lance, and brandishing it 
thrice over his head, darted it with all his might; 
the goddess his mother, at the same time, adding 
strength to his arm. Away the lance went 
hizzing, and reached even to the belt of the 
averted Ancient ; upon which lightly grasing, 
it fell to the ground. Temple neither felt the 
weapon touch him, nor heard it fail. And 
Wotton might have escaped to his army, with 
the honour of having emitted his lauce against 
so great a leader unrevenged ; but Apollo enrag- 
ed that a javelin flung by the assistance of so 
foul a goddess, should pollute his fountain, put 
on the shape of — , and softly came to young 
Boyle, who then accompanied Temple : he 
pointed first to the lance, then to the distant 
Modem that flung it, and commanded the young 
hero to take immediate revenge. Boyle, clad in 
a suit of armour which had been given him by all 



284 THE BATTLE OF THE BOOR?. 

the gods*, immediately advanced against the 
trembling foe, who now fled before him. Asa 
young lion in the Libyan plains, or Arabian 
Desart, sent by his aged sire to hunt for prey, 
or health, or exercise; he scours along, wishing 
to meet some tyger from the mountains, or a 
furious boar; if chance a wild ass, with brayings 
importune, affronts his ear; the generous beast, 
though loathing to distain his claws with blood 
so vile, yet much provoked at the offensive 
noise ; which echo, foolish nymph, like her ill* 
judging sex, repeats much louder, and with more 
delight than Philomela's song; he vindicates the 
honour of the forest, and hunts the noisy, long- 
ear^d animal : so Wotton fled, so Boyle pursued. 
But Wotton, heavy-armed, and slow of too 
began to slack his course ; when his lover Ben tie 
appeared, returning laden with the spoils of th 
tvvosleepin^ Ancients, .Boyle observed him well 
and soon discovering the helmet and shield of 
Phalaris, his friend, both which he had lately, 
with his own hands, new polished and gilded; 
rage sparkled in his eyes ; and leaving his pursuit 
after Wotton, he furiously rushed on against 



\ 

.e 

I; 



* Boyle was assisted in this dispute by Dean Aldric 
Dr. Atterbury, afterwards Bishop of Rochester, and oth< 
persons at Oxford, celebrated for their genius and thei 
learning, than called the Christ Church-wits. Hawkes, 



i 



THE BATTLE OF THE EOOKS. 2S5 

this new approacher. Fain would he be reveng- 
ed on both; but both now fled different ways. 
i\nd as a woman in a little house, that gets a 
painful livelihood by spinning*; if chance her 
geese be scattered o'er the common, she courses 
Found the plain from side to side, compelling 
here and there the stragglers to the flock; they 
cackle loud, and flutter o'er the champain : so 
Boyle pursued, so fled this pair of friends. 
Finding at length their flight was vain, they 
bravely joined, and drew themselves in phalanx. 
First, Bentley threw a spear with all his force, 
hoping to pierce the enemy's breast. But Pallas 
came unseen, and in the air took off the point, 
and clapped on one of iead\ which, after a dead 
'bang against the enemy's shield, fell blunted to 
the ground. Then Boyle, observing well his time, 
took up a lance of wondrous length and sharp- 
ness ; and as this pair of friends compacted stood 
close side to side, he wheeled him to the right, 
and, with unusual force, darted the weapon. 
Bentley saw his fate approach; and flanking 
down his arms close to his ribs, hoping to save 
his body, in went the point, passing through 
arm and side: nor stopt, or spent its force, till 

* This is also after the manner of Homer; the woman's 
getting a painful livelihood by spinning, has nothing to do 
with the similitude, nor would be excusable without such 
authority. 



2R6 THE BATTLE OF THE BOO'KS. 

it had also pierced the valiant Wotton ; who 
going to sustain his dying friend, shared 
his fate. As when a skilful cook has trussed a 
brace of woodcocks, he, with iron skewer pierces 
the tender sides of both, their legs and wings 
close pinioned to their ribs : so was this pair of 
friends transfixed, till down they fell, joined in 
their lives, joined in their deaths ; so closely 
joined, that Charon would mistake them both 
for one, and waft them over Sty* for half his 
fare. Farewell, beloved, loving pair ; few equals 
have you left behind : and happy and immortal 
shall you be, if all my wit and eloquence can 
make you. 
And, now 



# 


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Desunt ccztera. 



A 

DISCOURSE 

CONCERNING THE MECHANICAL OPERATION 

OF THE 

SPIRIT, 

IN A 

LETTER TO A FRIEND. 



A 

FRAGMENT. 



THE 



BOOKSELLER'S 

ADVERTISEMENT. 



THE following discourse came into my hands 
perfect and entire: but there being several 
things in it, which the present age would not 
very well bear, I kept it by me some years, 
resolving it should never see the light. At 
length, by the advice and assistance of a judicious 
friend, I retrenched those parts that might give 
most offence, and have now ventured to publish 
the remainder. Concerning the author, I am 
wholly ignorant; neither can I conjecture, whe- 
ther it be the same with that of the two fore- 
going pieces, the original having been sent me 
at a different time, and in a different hand. The 
learned reader will better determine, to whose 
judgment I entirely submit it. 



DISCOURSE 



CONCERNING THE MECHANICAL OPERATION 



OF THE 



SPIRIT, &c* 



For T. TL Esquire, at his Chambers in the Academy 
of the Beaux Esprits in New-Holland. 

Sir, 

AT is now a good while since I have had in my 
head something, not only very material, but 
absolutely necessary to my health, that the world 

* This discourse is not altogether equal to the two 
former, the best parts of it being omitted; whether the 
bookseller's account be true that he durst not print the 
Test, I know not, nor indeed is it easy to determine, 
whether he may be rely'd on, in any thing he says of 
this, or the former treatises, only as to the time they were 
: writ in ; which, however, appears more from the discourses 
themselves than his relation. 

o 






£90 A FRAGMENT. 

should be informed in. For, to tell you a secret, 
I am able to contain it no longer. However, I 
have been perplexed for some time, to resolve 
what would be the most proper form to send it 
abroad in. To which end, I have been three days 
coursing thro' Westminster-Hall, and St. Paul's 
Church-yard, and Fleet-street, to peruse titles; 
and, I do not find any which holds so general a 
vogue, as that of A Letter to a Friend: nothing 
is more common than to meet with long epistles 
addressed to persons and places, where, at first 
thinking, one would be apt to imagine it not 
altogether so necessary or convenient ; such as, 
a neighbour at next door, a mortal enemy, a perfect 
stranger, or a person of quality in the clouds; 
and these upon subjects in appearance, the least 
proper for convey anceby the post ; as, long schemes 
in Philosophy ; dark and wonderful Mysteries of 
State-, Laborious Dissertations in Criticism and 
Philosophy ; Advice to Parliaments, and the like. 
Now, Sir, to proceed after the method in 
present wear. (For let me say what I will to the 
contrary, I am afraid you will publish this Letter^ 
as soon as ever it comes to your hands.) I desire 
you will be my witness to the world, how careless 
and sudden a scribble it has been ; that it was bu 
yesterday, when you and I began accidental! 
to fall into discourse on this matter; that 
was not very well, when we parted; that th 






A FRAGMENT. £J)1 



post is in such haste, I have had no manner of 
time to digest it into order, or correct the style; 
and if any other, modern excuses, for haste and 
negligence shall occur to you in reading, I beg 
you to insert them, faithfully promising they 
shall be thankfully acknowledged. 

Pray, Sir, in your next letter to the Iroquois 
Virtuosi, do me the favour to present my humble 
service to that illustrious body, and assure them, 
I shall send an account of those phenomena, 
as soon as we can determine them at Gresham. 

I have not had a line from the Literati of 
Tobinambou, these three last ordinaries. 

And now, Sir, having dispatched what I had 
to say of forms, or of business, let me intreat, 
you will suffer me to proceed upon my subject; 
and to pardon me, if I make no farther use of 
the epistolary style, till I come to conclude. 



SECT. L 

'TIS recorded of Mahomet, that upon a visit he 
was going to pay in Paradise, he had an offer 
of several vehicles to conduct him upwards ; as 
fiery chariots, wing'd horses, and celestial sedans : 

o 2 



€ 2Q% A FRAGMENT. 



but he refused them all, and would be born t 
Heaven upon nothing but his ass. Now, this nidi 
nation of Mahomet , as singular as it seems, hath 
been since taken up by a great number of devout 
Christians^ and doubtless, with very good reason. 
For, since that Arabian is known to have borrow 
ed a moiety of his religious system from the 
Christian faith, it is but just he should pay repri« 
sals to such as would challenge them, whereir 
the good people of England, to do them al 
right, have not been backward. For, tho' there 
is not any other nation in the world, so plentiful] 
provided with carriages for that journey, either 
as to safety, or ease ; yet there are abundance 
of us, who will not be satisfied with any other 
machine, beside this of Mahomet. 

For my own part, I must confess to bear a 
very singular respect to this animal, by whom [ 
take human nature to be most admirably held 
forth in all its qualities as well as operations : 
And therefore whatever in my small reading 
occurs, concerning this our fellow-creature, I do 
never fail to set it down, by way of common- 
place; and when I have occasion to write 
upon human reason, politicks, eloquence, or 
knowledge; I lay my memorandums before me, 
and insert them with a wonderful facility of 
application. However, among all the quali- 
fications ascribed to this distinguished brute, by 



A FRAGMENT. £93 



antient or modern authors, I cannot remember 
this talent of bearing his rider to heaven, has 
been recorded for a part of his character, except 
in the two examples mentioned already ; there- 
fore, I conceive the methods of this art to be a 
point of useful knowledge in very few hands, 
and which the learned world would gladly be 
better informed in: this is what I have undertaken 
to perform in the following discourse. For, 
towards the operation already mentioned, many 
peculiar properties are required, both in the 
rider and the ass; which I shall endeavour to 
set in. as clear a light as I can. 

But, because I am resolved, by all means, to 
avoid giving offence to any party whatever ; I 
will leave off discoursing so closely to the letter 
as I have hitherto done, and go on for the future 
by way of allegory, tho' in such a manner, that 
the judicious reader may, without much strain- 
ing, make his applications as often as he shall 
think fit. Therefore, if you please, from hence 
forward, instead of the term, ass, we shall make 
use of gifted, or enlightned teacher; and the 
word rider, we will exchange for that of fanatic 
auditory, or any other denomination of the like 
import. Having settled this weighty point, 
the great subject of enquiry before us, is to 
examine, by what methods this teacher arrives 
at his Gifts, or Spirit, or Light; and by what 
o 3 



£94 A FRAGMENT. 



intercourse between him and his assembly, it is 
cultivated and supported. 

In all my writings, I have had constant regard 
to this great end, not to suit and apply them to 
particular occasions and circumstances of time, 
of place, or of person; but to calculate them 
for universal nature, and mankind in general. 
And of such catholick use, I esteem this present 
disquisition : for I do not remember any other 
temper of body, or quality of mind, wherein all 
nations and ages of the world have so unani- 
mously agreed, as that of afanatick strain, or 
tincture of enthusiasm ; which improved by 
certain persons or societies of men, and by them 
practised upon the rest, has been able to produce 
revolutions of the greatest figure in history; 
as will soon appear to those who know any things 
of Arabia, Persia, India, or China, of Morocco 
and Peru., Farther, it has possessed as great a 
power in the kingdom of knowledge, where it is 
hard -to assign one art or science, which has not 
annexed to it some fanatick branch : such. are 
the Philosopher's Stone ;* the Grand Elixir ; the 
Planetary Worlds ; the Squaring of the Circle ; 
the Summum Bonum; Utopian Common-wealths; 
with some others of less or subordinate note ; 
which all serve for nothing else, but to employ 

* Some writers hold them for the same, others not. 



A FRAGMENT. %Q5 



or amuse this grain of enthusiasm, dealt into 
every composition. 

But, if this plant has found a root in the fields 
of Empire, and of knowledge, it has fixed deeper, 
and spread yet farther upon holy ground. 
Wherein, though it hath passed under the general 
name of Enthusiasm, and perhaps arisen from 
the same original, yet hath it produced certain 
branches of a very different nature, however often 
mistaken for each other. The word in its 
universal acceptation, may be defined, A lifting 
up of the soul or its faculties above matter. 
This description will hold good in general ; but 
I am only to understand it, as applied to Religion; 
wherein there are three general ways of ejacu- 
lating the soul, or transporting it beyond the 
sphere of matter. The first, is the immediate 
act of God, and is called Prophecy or Inspiration. 
The second, is the immediate act of the devil, 
and is termed Possession. The third, is the 
product of natural causes, the effect of strong 
imagination, spleen, violent anger, fear, grief, 
pain, and the like. These three have been 
abundantly treated on by authors, and therefore 
shall not employ my enquiry. But, the fourth 
method of Religious Enthusiasm, or launching 
out of the soul, as it is purely an effect of artifice 
and mechanick operation, has been sparingly 
handled, or not at all, by any writer; because 
o 4 



296 A FRAGMENT. 



tho' it is an art of great antiquity, yet having 
been confined to few persons, it long wanted 
those advancements and refinements, which it 
afterwards met with, since it has grown so 
epidemick, and fallen into so many cultivating 
hands. 

It is therefore upon this mechanical operation 
of the Spirit, that I mean to treat, as it is at 
present performed by our British workmen. I 
shall deliver to the reader the result of many 
judicious observations upon the matter ; tracing, 
as near as I can, the whole course and method 
of this trade, producing parallel instances, and 
relating certain discoveries that have luckily 
fallen in my way. 

I have said that there is one branch of Religious 
Enthusiasm, which is purely an effect of nature; 
whereas, the part I mean to handle, is wholy an 
effect of art, which, however, is inclined to 
work upon certain natures and constitutions, 
more than others. Besides, there is many an 
operation, which in its original, was purely an 
artifice, but through a long succession of ages, 
hath grown to be natural. Hippocrates tells us, 
that among our ancestors, the Scythians, there 
was a nation called,* Longheads, which at first 
began by a custom among midwives and nurses 



Macrocephali, 



A FRAGMENT; 297 



of molding, and squeezing, and bracing up the 
heads of infants; by which means, nature shut 
out at one passage, was forced to seek another, 
and finding room above, shot upwards, in the 
form of a sugar-loaf; and being diverted that 
way, for some generations, at last found it out 
of herself, needing no assistance from the 
nurse's hand. This was the original of the 
Scythian Longheads, and thus did custom, from 
being a second nature, proceed to be a first. 
To all which, there is something very analogous 
among us of this nation, w r ho are the undoubted 
posterity of that refined people. For, in the age 
of our fathers, there arose a generation of men 
in this island, called Round-heads, whose race is 
now spread over three kingdoms, yet in its 
beginning, was meerly an operation of art, 
produced by a pair of scissars, a squeeze of the 
face, and a black cap. These heads, thus form- 
ed into a perfect sphere in all assemblies, were- 
most exposed to the view of the female sort, 
which did influence their conceptions so effec- 
tually, that nature, at last, took the hint, anck 
did it of her self; so that a Round-head has 
been ever since as familiar a sight among us, as 
a Longhead among the Scythians. 

Upon these examples, and others easy to 
produce, I desire thecuriousreader to distinguish 
first between an effect grown from art into 

Q 5 



293 A FRAGMENT. 



nature, and one that is natural from its begin- 
ning ; Secondly between an effect wholly 
natural, and one which has only a natural foun- 
dation, but where the superstructure is entirely 
artificial. For, the first and the last of these, 
I understand to come within the districts of my 
subject. And having obtained these allowances, 
they will serve to remove any objections that 
may be raised, hereafter against what I shall 
advance* 

The practitioners of this famous art, proceed 
in general upon the following fundamental; 
that, the corruption of the senses is the generation 
of the spirit : because the senses in men are so 
many avenues to the fort of reason, which in 
this operation is wholly blocked up. All endea- 
vours must be therefore used, either to divert, 
bind up, stupify, fluster, and amuse the senses, 
or else to justle them out of their stations; 
and while they are either absent, or otherwise 
employed or engaged in a civil war against each 
other, the spirit enters and performs its part. 

Now, the usual methods of managing the 
senses upon such conjunctures, are what I shall 
be very particular in delivering, as far as it is 
lawful for me to do ; but having had the honour 
to be initiated into the mysteries of every society, 
I desire to be excused from divulging any rite&, 
wherein the profane must have no part. 



A FRAGMENT. 2QQ 



But here, before I can proceed farther, a very 
dangerous objection must, if possible, be remov- 
ed : for it is positively denied by certain criticks, 
that the spirit can by any means be introduced 
into an assembly of modern saints; the disparity 
being so great in man}^ material circumstances, 
between the primitive way of inspiration, and 
that which is practised in the present age. This 
they pretend to prove from the second chapter 
of the Acts, where comparing both, it appears ; 
First, that the Apostles were gathered together 
with one accord in one place; by which is meant, 
an universal agreement in opinion, and form of 
worship ; a harmony (say they) so far from 
being found between any two conventicles 
among us, that it is in vain to expect it between 
any two heads in the same. Secondly, the Spirit 
instructed the apostles in the gift of speaking 
jseveral languages; a knowledge so remote from 
our dealers in this art, that they neither under- 
stand propriety of words, or phrases in their own. 
Lastly, (say these objectors) the modern artists do 
utterly exclude all approaches of the Spirit, and 
bar up its antient way of entering, by covering 
themselves so close, and so industriously a-top. 
For, they will needs have it as a point clearly 
gained, that the cloven tongues never sat upon 
the apostles' heads, while their hats were on. 

Now, the force of these objections, seems 
06 



300 A FRAGMENT. 






to consist in the different acceptation of the 
word, Spirit ; which, if it be understood for a 
supernatural assistance, approaching from 
without, the objectors have reason, and their 
assertions may be allowed; but the Spirit we 
treat of here, proceeding entirely from within, 
the argument of these adversaries is wholly 
eluded. And upon the same account, our 
modern artificers, find it an expedient of abso- 
lute necessity, to cover their heads as close as 
they can, in order to prevent perspiration, than 
which, nothing is observed to be a greater 
splendor of mechanick light, as we may, perhaps, 
farther shew in convenient place. 

To proceed therefore upon the phenomenon 
of Spiritual Mechanism, it is here to be noted, 
that in forming and working up the Spirit, the 
assembly has a considerable share, as well as the 
preacher. The method of this arcanum, is as 
follows: they violently strain their eye-balls 
inward, half closing the lids; then, as they sit, 
they are in a perpetual motion of see-saw, 
making long hums at proper periods, and 
continuing the sound at equal height, chusing 
their time in those intermissions, while the 
preacher is at ebb. Neither is this practice, in 
any part of it, so singular and improbable, as 
not to be traced in distant regions, from reading 



A FRAGMENT. 301 

and observation. For, first, the *Jauguis, or 
enlightened saints of India, see all their visions, 
by help of an acquired straining and pressure of 
the eyes. Secondly the art of seesaw on a beam, 
and swinging by session upon a cord, in order 
to raise artificial extasies, hath been derived to 
us, from our f Scythian ancestors, where it is 
practised at this day, among the women* 
Lastly the whole proceeding, as I have here 
related it, is performed by the natives of Ireland, 
with a considerable improvement ; and it is 
granted, that this noble nation hath, of all others, 
admitted fewer corruptions, and degenerated 
least from the purity of the old Tartars. Now 
it is usual for a knot of Irish, men and women, 
to abstract themselves from matter, bind up all 
their senses, grow visionary and spiritual, by 
influence of a short pipe of tobacco, handed 
round the company; each preserving the smoke 
in his mouth, till it comes again to his turn to 
take in fresh ; at the same time, there is a con- 
cert of a continued gentle hum, repeated and 
renewed by instinct, as occasion requires, and 
they move their bodies up and down, to a degree, 
that sometimes their heads and points lie parallel 
to the horizon. Meanwhile you may observe 

• Bernier, Mem. de Mogol. 
f Guagniai Hist, Sarmat. 



300, A FRAGMENT. 



their eyes turnd up in the posture of one who 
endeavours to keep himself awake; by which, 
and many other symptoms among them, it 
manifestly appears, that the reasoning faculties 
are all suspended and superseded, that imagi- 
nation hath usurped the seat, scattering a 
thousand deliriums over the brain. Returning 
from this digression, I shall describe the methods 
by which the Spirit approaches. The eyes being 
disposed according to art, at first, you can see 
nothing: but after a short pause, a small glim- 
mering light begins to appear, and dance before 
you. Then by frequently moving your body 
up and down, you perceive the vapours to ascend 
very fast, till you are perfectly dosed and flus- 
tred like one who drinks too much in a morning. 
Mean while, the preacher is also at work ; he 
begins a loud hum, which pierces you quite 
through; this is immediately returned by the 
audience, and you find yourself prompted to 
imitate them, by a meer spontaneous impulse, 
without knowing what you do. The interstitia 
are duly filled up by the preacher, to prevent 
too long a pause, under which the Spirit would 
soon faint and gro\v languid. 

This is all I am allowed to discover about the 
progress of the Spirit, w T ith relation to that part, 
which is born by the assembly; but in the 
methods of the preacher, to which I now proceed, 
I shall be more large and particular. 



A FRAGMENT. 303 



SECT II. 

YOU will read it very gravely remarked in 
the books of those illustrious and right eloquent 
pen-men, the modern travellers, that the fun- 
damental difference in point of religion, between 
the wild Indians and us, lies in this ; that we 
worship God, and they worship the Devil. But> 
there are certain criticks, who will by no means 
admit of this distinction; rather believing, that 
all nations whatsoever, adore the true God > 
because, they seem to intend their devotions to 
gome invisible power, of greatest goodness and 
ability to help them ; which perhaps will take 
in the brightest attributes ascribed to the 
Divinity. Others, again, inform us, that 
those idolaters adore two principles; the 
principle of good, and that of evil: which 
indeed, I am apt to look upon as the most 
universal notion, that mankind, by the meer 
light of nature, ever entertained of things 
invisible. How this idea hath been managed 
by the Indians and us, and with what advantage 
to the understandings of either, may well 
deserve to he examined. To me, the difference 



304 A FRAGMENT. 



appears little more than this, that they are put 
oftner upon their knees by their fears, and we 
by our desires ; that the former set them a 
praying* and us a cursing. What I applaud 
them for, is their discretion, in limiting their 
devotions and their deities to their several 
districts, nor ever suffering the liturgy of the 
white god, to cross or interfere with that of the 
black. Not so with us, who pretending by the 
lines and measures of our reason, to extend the 
dominion of one invisible power, and contract 
that of the other, have discovered a gross 
ignorance in the natures of good and evil, and 
most horribly confounded the frontiers of both. 
After men have lifted up the throne of their 
divinity to the Ccdum Empyraum, adorned with 
all such qualities and accomplishments, as 
themselves seem most to value and possess: 
after they have sunk their principle of evil to 
the lowest center, bound him with chains, load^ 
ed him with curses, furnished him with viler 
dispositions than any rake-hell of the town, 
accoutred him with tail, and horns, and huge 
claws, and sawcer eye; I laugh aloud, to see 
these reasoners, at the same time, engaged in 
wise dispute, about certain walks and purlieus, 
whether they are in the verge of God or the Devil, 
seriously debating, whether such and such 



A FRAGMENT. 305 

influences come into men's mind from above or 
below, whether certai npassions and affections are 
guided by the evil spirit or the good : 

Dum fas atque nefas exiguo fine libidinuin 
Discernunt avidi 

Thus do men establish a fellowship of Christ 
with Belial, and such is the analogy they make 
between cloven tongues, and cloven feet. Of 
the like nature is the disquisition before us: it 
hath continued these hundred years an even 
debate, whether the deportment and the cant 
of our English enthusiastic preachers, were 
Possession, or Inspiration, and a world of argu- 
ment has been drained on either side, perhaps, 
to little purpose. For, I think, it is in life as 
in tragedy, where, it is held, a conviction of 
great defect, both in order and invention, to 
interpose the assistance of preternal power, 
without an absolute and last necessity. However, 
it is a sketch of human vanity, for every 
individual, to imagine the whole universe is 
interested in his meanest concern. If he hath 
got cleanly over a kennel, some angel unseen, 
descended on purpose to help him by the hand; 
if he hath knocked his head against a post, it 
was the devil, for his sins, let loose from hell on 
purpose to buffet him. Who, that sees a little 



506 A FRAGMENT. 



paultry mortal, droning, and dreaming, and 
drivelling to a multitude, can think it agreeable 
to common good sense, that either heaven or 
hell should be put to the trouble of influence or 
inspection upon what he is about? therefore, I 
am resolved immediately, to weed this error out 
of mankind, by making it clear, that this mystery, 
of vending spiritual gifts is nothing but a trade, 
acquired by as much instruction, and mastered 
by equal practice and application, as others are- 
This will best appear by describing and deducing 
the whole process of the operation, as variously 
as it hath fallen under my knowledge or experi- 
ence . 
# # # # # 



Here the whole scheme 
of spiritual Mechanism 
was deduced and ex- 
plained, with an appear- 
ance of great reading and 
observation, but it was 
thought neither safe nor 
convenient to print it. 



#rife i. -rife rife rife 

*fl* •/P" W "W 

Here it may not be amiss to add a few words 
upon the laudable practice of wearing quilted 
caps; which is not a matter of meer custom, 



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humour, or fashion, as some would preten^.1, but 
an institution o£ great sagacity and use : these, 
when moistened with sweat, stop all pespiration, 
and by reverberating the heat, prevent the 
spirit from evaporating any way, but at the 
mouth ; even as a skilful housewife, that covers 
her still with a wet clout, for the same reason, 
and finds the same effect. For, it is the opinion 
of choice virtuosi, that the brain is only a 
crowd of little animals, but with teeth and claws 
extremely sharp, and therefore, cling together 
in the contexture we behold, like the picture 
of Hobbes's Leviathan, or like bees in perpendi- 
cular swarm upon a tree, or like a carrion 
corrupted into vermin, still preserving the shape 
and figure of the mother animal. That all 
invention is formed by the morsure of two or 
more of these animals, upon certain capillary 
nerves, which proceed from thence, whereof 
three branches spread into the tongue, and two 
into the right hand. They hold also, that these 
animals are of a constitution extremely cold; 
that their food is their air we attract, their excre- 
ment phlegm ; and that what we vulgarly call 
rheums, and colds, and distillations, is nothing 
else but an epidemical looseness, to which that 
little common wealth is very subject, from the 
climate it lies under. Farther, that nothing 
else than a violent heat, can disentangle these 



308 A FRAGMENT. 



creatures from their hamated station of life, or 
give them vigour and humour, to imprint the 
marks of their little teeth. That if the morsure 
be hexagonal, it produces poetry; the circular 
gives eloquence : if the bite hath been conical, 
the person, whose nerve is so affected, shall be 
disposed to write upon the politicks ; and so of 
the rest. 

I shall now discourse briefly, by what kind of 
parctices the voice is best governed, towards the 
composition and improvement of the Spirit; for 
without a competent skill in tuning and toning 
each word and syllable, and letter, to their due 
cadence, the whole operation is incompleat, 
misses entirely of its effect on the hearers, and 
puts the workman himself to continual pains for 
new supplies, without success. For, it is to be 
understood, that in the language of the spirti, 
cant and droning supply the place of sense and 
reason, in the language of men : because, in 
spiritual harangues, the disposition of the words 
according to the art of grammar, hath not the 
least use, but the skill and influence wholly lie 
in the choice and cadence of the syllables;, 
even as a discreet composer, who in setting a 
song, changes the words and order so often, that 
he is forced to make it nonsense, before he can 
make it musick. For this reason it hath been 
held by some, that the art of canting is ever in 



A FRAGMENT. 309 



greatest perfection, when managed by ignorance; 
which is thought to be enigmatically meant by 
Plutarch, when he tells us, that the best musi- 
cal instruments were made from the bones of 
an ass. And the profounder criticks upon that 
passage, are of opinion, the w r ord in its genuine 
signification, means no other than a jaw-bone; 
though some rather think it to have been the 
os sacrum: but in so nice a case, I shall not 
take upon me to decide; the curious are at 
liberty, to pick from it whatever they please. 

The first ingredient, towards the art of cant- 
ing, is a competent .share of inward light ; that 
is to say, a large memory, plentifully fraught 
with theological polysyllables, and mysterious 
texts from holy writ, applied and digested by 
those methods, and mechanical operations al- 
ready related : the bearers of this light, resem- 
bling lanthorns, compact of leaves from old 
Geneva bibles; which invention, Sir H-mphry 
Edzc-n, during his mayoralty, of happy memory, 
highly approved and advanced; affirming, tlie 
scripture to be now fulfilled, where it says, Thy 
xcord is a lanthorn to my feet, and a light to my 
paths. 

Now, the art of canting consists in skilfully 
adapting the voice, to whatever words the spirit 
delivers, that each may strike the ears of the 
audience, with its most significant cadence, 






510 A FRAGMENT. 



The force, or energy of this eloquence, is not 
to be found, as among antient orators, in the 
disposition of words to a sentence, or the turning 
of long periods; but agreeable to the modern 
refinements in musick, is taken up wholly in 
dwelling, and dilating upon syllables and letters. 
Thus it is frequent for a single vowel to draw 
sighs from a multitude ; and for a whole assem- 
bly of saints, to sob to the musick of one solitary 
liquid. But these are trifles ; when even sounds 
inarticulate, are observed to produce as forcible 
effects. A master workman shall blow his nose 
so powerfully, as to pierce the hearts of his 
people, who are disposed to receive the excre- 
ments of his brain, with the same reverence as 
the issue of it. Hawking, spitting, and belching, 
the defects of other men's rhetorick, are the 
flowers, and figures, and ornaments of his. For, 
the Spirit being the same in all, it is of no 
import through what vehicle it is conveyed. 

It is a point of too much difficulty, to draw 
the principles of this famous art within the com- 
pass of certain adequate rules. However, 
perhaps, I may one day oblige the world with 
my critical essay upon the art of Canting, Phi- 
losophically, Physically, and Musically considered. 

But, among -all improvements of the Spirit, 
wherein the voice hath born a part, there is 
none to be compared with that of conveying the ;| 



A FRAGMENT. 311 



sound through the nose, which under the deno- 
mination of # snuffling, hath passed with so 
great applause in the world. The originals of 
this institution are veiy dark ; but having been 
initiated into the mystery of it, and leave 
being given me to publish it to the world, I 
shall deliver as direct a relation as I can. 

This art, like many other famous inventions, 
owed its birth, or at least, improvement and 
perfection, to .an effect of chance; but was 
established upon solid reasons, and hath flourish- 
ed in this island ever since, with great lustre. 
All agree, that it first appeared upon the decay 
and discouragement of bag-pipes, which having 
long suffered under the mortal hatred of the 
brethren, tottered for a time, and at last fell 
with monarchy. The story is thus related. 

As yet, snuffling was not ; when the following 
adventure happened to a Bambury Saint. 
Upon a certain day, while he was far engaged 
among the tabernacles of the wicked, he felt 
the outward man put into odd commotions, and 
strangely pricked forward by the inward : an 
effect very usual among the modern inspired. 
For, some think, that the Spirit is apt to feed on 

* The snuffling of men, who have lost their noses by lewd 
courses, is said io have given rise to that lone, which our 
dissenters did too much affect. W. Wotton. 






312 A FRAGMENT. 



the fleshy like hungry wines upon raw beef. 
Others rather believe, there is a perpetual game 
at leap-frog between both ; and, sometimes, the 
flesh is uppermost, and sometimes the Spirit ; 
adding, that the former, while it is in the state 
of a rider, wears huge rippon spurs, and when it 
comes lo the turn of being hearer, is wonderfully 
head-strong and hard mouthed. However it 
came about, the Saint felt his vessel full extended 
in every part (a very natural effect of strong 
inspiration;) and the place and time falling out 
so unluckily, that he could not have the con- 
venience of evacuating upwards, by repetition, 
prayer, or lecture ; he was forced to open an 
inferior vent. In short he wrestled with the 
flesh so long, that he at length subdued it, 
coming off with honourable wounds, all before. 
The surgeon had now cured the parts, primarily 
effected ; but the disease driven from its post, 
flew up into his head; and as a skilful general, 
valiantly attacked in his trenches, and beaten 
from the field, by flying marches withdraws to 
the capital city, breaking down the bridges to 
prevent pursuit; so the disease repelled from 
its first station, fled before the rod of Hermes, 
to the upper region, there fortifying itself ; but, 
finding the foe making attacks at the nose, 
broke down the bridge, and retired to the head 
quarters. Now, the naturalists observe,{that there 



A FRAGMENT. 313 

is in human noses, an idiosyncracy, by virtue of 
which, the more the passage is obstructed, the 
more our speech delights to go through, as the 
musick of a flagelate is made by the stops. 
By this method the twang of the nose, becomes 
perfectly to resemble the snuffle of a bag-pipe, and 
is found to be equally attractive of British ears ; 
whereof the Saint had sudden experience, by 
practising his new faculty with wonderful success 
in the operation of the Spirit ; for, in a short 
time, no doctrine passed for sound and orthodox, 
unless it were delivered through the nose. 
Strait, every pastor copied after this original ; 
and those, who could not otherwise arrive to 
a perfection, spirited by a noble zeal, made use 
of the same experiment to acquire it. So that, 
I think, it may be truly affirmed, the Saints owe 
their empire to the snuffling of one animal, as 
Darius did his, to the neighing of another ; and 
both stratagems were performed by the same 
art ; for we read, how the* Persian beast acquir- 
ed his faculty, by covering a mare the day 
before. 

I should now have done, if I were not con- 
vinced, that whatever I have yet advanced upon 

this subject, is liable to great exception. For, 
i 

* Herodot. 



314 A FRAGMENT. 



allowing all I have said to be true, it may still 
be justly objected, that there is in the common- 
wealth of artificial enthusiasm, some real foun- 
dation for art to work upon in the temper and 
complexion of individuals, which other mortals 
seem to want. Observe but the gesture, the 
motion, and the countenance, of some choice 
professors, though in the most familiar actions, 
you will find them of a different. race from the 
rest of human creatures. Remark your com- 
monest pretender to a light within, how daik, 
and dirty, and gloomy he is without : as lanthorns, 
which the more light they bear in their bodies, 
cast out so much the more soot, and smoak, and 
fuliginous matter to adhere to the sides. Listen 
but to their ordinary talk, and look on the mouth 
that delivers it; you will imagine you are 
hearing some antient oracle, and your under- 
standing will be equal/i/ informed. Upon these, 
and the like reasons, certain objectors pretend 
to put it beyond all doubt, that there must be 
a sort of preternal Spirit, possessing the heads 
of the modern saints; and some will have it to 
be the heat of zeal, working upon the dregs of 
ignorance, as other Spirits are produced from 
lees, by the force of fire. Some again think, 
that when our earthly tabernacles are disordered 
and desolate, shaken and out of repair, the Spirit 



A FRAGMENT. 515 



delights to dwell witnin them, as houses are said 
to be haunted when they are forsaken and gone 
to decay. 

To set this matter in as fair a light as possible ; 
I shall here, very briefly, deduce the history of 
Fanaticism, from the most early ages to^the 
present. And if we are able to fix upon any 
one material or fundamental point, wherein the 
chief professors have universally agreed, I think 
we may reasonably lay hold on that, and assign 
it for the great seed or principle of the Spirit. 

The mo^t early traces we meet with of Fana- 
ticks, in ancient story, are among the ^Egyptians, 
who instituted those rites, known in Greece by 
the names of Qrgya, Panegyres, and Dionysia, 
whether introduced there by Orpheus and Me- 
lampus, we shall not dispute at present, nor in 
all likelihood- at any time for the future. These 
feasts were celebrated to the honour of Osyris, 
whom the Grecians called Dionysius, and is the 
same with Bacchus* : which has betrayed some 
superficial readers to imagine, that the whole 
business was nothing more than a set of roaring, 
scouring companions, ; over-charged with wine; 
but this is a scandalous mistake, foisted on the 
world by a sort of modern authors, who have 
too literal an understanding ; and because anti- 

* Dido. Sic. L. 1. Plut. de hide <£• Osyridt* 
P & 



316 A FRAGMENT. 



quity is to be traced backwards, do therefore, 
like Jews, begin their books at the wrong end, 
as if learning were a sort of conjuring. These 
are the men, who pretend to understand a book, 
by scouting thro' the Index, as if a traveller 
should go about to describe a palace, when he 
had seen nothing but the privy: or like certain 
fortune-tellers in Northern America, who have a 
way of reading a man's destiny, by peeping in 
his breech. For, at the time of instituting these 
mysteries, # there w r as not one vine in all JEgypt, 
the natives drinking nothing but ale ; which 
liquor seems to have been far more ancient than 
wine, and has the honour of owning its inven- 
tion and progress, not only to the f Mgyptian 
Osyrisj but to the Grecian Bacchus, who in their 
famous expedition, carried the receipt of it 
along with them, and gave it to the nations they 
visited or subdued. Besides, Bacchus himself 
was very seldom, or never drunk : for it is re- 
corded of him, that he was the first % inventor 
of the mitre ; which he wore continually on his 
head (as the whole company of bacchanals did) 
to prevent vapours and the head-ach, after hard 
drinking. And for this reason (say some) the 
Scarlet Whore, when she makes the kings of the. 



* Herod. L. Q. 

f Diod.Sic L. l.$3. 

X Id. L. 4. 



A FRAGMENT. 31? 



earth drunk with her cup of abomination, is al- 
ways sober herself, tho' she never baulks the 
glass in her turn, being, it seems, kept upon 
her legs by the virtue of her triple mitre. Now, 
these feasts were instituted in imitation of the 
famous expedition Osyris made thro' the world, 
and of the company that attended him, whereof 
the bacchanalian* ceremonies were so many types 
and symbols. From which account, it is ma- 
nifest, that the fanatick rites of these bacchanals 
cannot be imputed to intoxications by wine, but 
must needs have had a deeper foundation. What 
this was, we may gather large hints from cer- 
tain circumstances in the course of their myste- 
ries. For, in the first place, there was in their 
processions, an entire mixture and confusion of 
sexes ; they affected to ramble about hills and 
desarts : their garlands were of ivy and vine, 
emblems of cleaving and clinging; or of fir, the 
parent of turpentine. It is added, that they 
imitated satyrs, were attended by goats, and rode 
upon asses, all companions of great skill and 
practice in affairs of gallantry. They bore for 
their ensigns, certain curious figures, perched 
upon long poles, made into the shape and size 
of the virga genitalis, with its appurtenances, 
which were so many shadows and emblems of 

* See the particulars in Diod. Sic, i, 1. fy S. 
p 3 



518 A FRAGMENT. 

the whole mystery, as well as trophies set up by 
the female conquerors. Lastly, in a certain 
town of Attica, the whole solemnity * stript of 
all its types, was performed in puris naturalibus, 
the votaries, not flying in coveys, but sorted 
into couples. The same may be farther con- 
jectured from the death of Orpheus, one of the 
institutors of these mysteries, who was torn in 
pieces by women, because he refused to -j- com- 
municate his orgies to them ; which others ex- 
plained, by telling us, he had castrated him- 
self, upon grief for the loss of his wife. 

Omitting many others of less note, the next 
Tanaticks we meet with, of any eminence, were 
the numerous sects of Hereticks appearing in 
the five first centuries of the Christian ara^ 
from Simon Magus and his followers, to those of 
Eutyches. I have collected their systems from 
infinite reading, and comparing them with those of 
their successors in the several ages since, I find 
there are certain bounds set even to the irregu- 
larity of human thought, and those a great deal 
narrower than is commonly apprehended. For, 
as they all frequently interfere, even in their 
wildest ravings; so there is one fundamental 
point, wherein they are sure to meet, as lines ift 

* Dionysia Brauronia. 

f Vid. Photium in excerpiis « Conone, 



A FRAGMENT. 319 



a centre, and that is the community of women. 
Great were their solicitudes in this matter, and 
they never failed of certain articles in their 
schemes of worship, on purpose to establish it. 

The last Fanaticks of note, were those which 
started up in Germany, a little after the Refor- 
mation of Luther ; springing, as mushrooms do 
at the end of a harvest : such were John of Ley- 
den, David George, Adam Neuster, and many 
others; whose visions and revelations always 
terminated in leading about half a dozen sisters 
a-piece, and making that practice a fundamental 
part of their system. , For, human life is a con- 
tinual navigation, and, if we expect our vessels 
to pass with safety, through the waves and tem- 
pests of this fluctuating world, it is necessary 
to make a good provision of the flesh, as seamen 
lay in store of beef for a long voyage. 

Now from this brief survey of some principal 
sects, among the Fanaticks, in all ages (having 
omitted the Mahometans and others, who might 
also help to confirm the argument I am about) 
to which I might add several among ourselves, 
such as the Family of Love, Sweet Singers of 
Israel, and the like: and from reflecting upon 
that fundamental point in their doctrines, about 
women, wherein they have so unanimously 
agreed ; I am apt to imagine, that the seed, or 
principle, which has ever put men upon visions 



320 A FRAGMENT. 



in things invisible, is of a corporeal nature : for 
the profounder chymists inform us, that the 
strongest spirits may be extracted from human 
flesh. Besides, the spinal marrow, being no- 
thing else but a continuation of the brain, must 
needs create a very free communication between 
the superior faculties and those below : and thus 
the thorn in the flesh serves for a spur to the spi- 
rit. I think, it is agreed among physicians, 
that nothing affects the head so much, as a ten- 
tiginous humour, repelled and elated to the up- 
per region, found by daily practice, to run fre- 
quently up into madness. A very eminent mem- 
ber of the faculty assured me, that when the 
Quakers first appeared, he seldom was without 
some female patients among them, for thefuror 
persons of a visionary devotion, either 
men or women, are in their complexion, of all 
others, the most amorous : for, zeal is frequently 
kindled from the same spark with other fires, 
and from inflaming brotherly love, will proceed 
to raise that of a gallant. If we inspect into 
the usual process of modern courtship, we shall 
find it to consist in a, devout turn of the eyes, 
called ogling-, an artificial form of canting and 
whining by rote, every interval, for want of 
other matter, made up with a shrug, or a hum, 
a sigh or a groan; the stile compact of insigni- 
ficant words, incoherences and repetition. These, 



! 



A FRAGMENT. 3£1 

I take, to be the most accomplished rules of ad- 
dress to a mistress ; and where are these per- 
formed with more dexterity, than by the saints ? 
Nay, to bring this argument yet closer, I have 
been informed by certain sanguine brethren of 
the first class, that in the height and orgasmus of 
their spiritual exercise, it has been frequent with 
them * * # # * *; immediately after 
which, they found the spirit to relax and flag of 
a sudden with the nerves, and they were forced 
to hasten to a conclusion. This may be farther 
strengthened, by observing, with wonder, how 
unaccountable all females are attracted by vi- 
sionary or enthusiastic- preachers, though never 
so contemptible in their outward men ; which is 
usually supposed to be done upon considerations 
purely spiritual, without any carnal regards at 
all. But I have reason to think, the sex hath 
certain characteristicks, by which they form a 
truer judgment of human abilities and perform- 
ings, than we ourselves can possibly do of each 
other. Let that be as it will, thus much is cer- 
tain, that however spiritual intrigues begin, they 
generally conclude like all others ; they may 
branch upwards towards heaven, but the root is 
in the earth. Too intense a contemplation is 
not the business of flesh and blood ; it must 
by the necessary course of things, in a little 
time, let go its hold, and fall into matter. Lo- 



32S A FRAGMENT. 



vers, for the sake of celestial converse, are but 
another sort of P'tatonicks, who pretend to see 
stars and heaven in ladies eyes, and to look or 
think no lower ; but the same pit is provided for 
both ; and they seem a perfect moral to the 
story of that philosopher, who, while his thoughts 
and eyes were fixed upon the constellations, 
found himself seduced by his lower parts into a 
diU h. 

I had somewhat more to say upon this part of 
the subject; but the post is just going, which 
forces me in great haste to conclude, 



S I R, 

Yours, &c* 



Pray burn this 
Letter as soon 
as it comes to 
your hands. 



FINIS. 



Plummet- and BreuM, Pri*tlti& A Lone JLaue, haUUt^uuT 



J AJ\IX 



4 ®49 






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Dedication to Prince Posterity to face page $% 

Grub-Street Authors triumph over Time to face page 68 
Peter, John, and Martin, examining the Will to 

face page • • • 90 

A true Critick hunting down Authors to face page* • 104 

Lord Peter presenting his Foot to face page • 126* 

Jack courting Persecution to face page 318 






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